


Bury Me In Memory

by Acadjonne



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Discussion of Homophobia, Kidnapping, M/M, Past Character Death, warnings for:
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 09:24:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16851454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acadjonne/pseuds/Acadjonne
Summary: Since losing his wife, Ray has done everything he could to raise his daughter Grace on his own. His brother-in-law Gideon, however, somehow always finds ways to complain about Ray and his parenting abilities. Despite this, Ray is determined not to let Gideon get the best of him.A chance meeting with author Gerard Way may change things, however, as the two soon begin to develop an attachment to each other, though neither does anything about it. Gerard is too preoccupied with making a grand statement about it, and Ray is too afraid of how it might affect Grace if Gideon were ever to find out. One misplaced paper, however, may be the unraveling of an important and well kept secret; one which could bring Ray’s entire life crashing down around him.





	Bury Me In Memory

**Author's Note:**

> So. This is my first BBB. I'm actually really excited to see what everyone's fanworks are this year. 
> 
> This fic, for a while, was like my baby. Since I signed up for the BBB, I was only working on this, until I finally finished it. I put so much time and effort into it, ignoring my teachers, and later, my professors, in favour of scribbling this down on ink and paper, and then spent hours typing through my notes and trying to decipher my cursive loops and dashes. I kept track of every word I wrote, and every word I cut out, and every word I changed. There are dozens, if not hundreds, of pages and post-its floating around and it's all just this.
> 
> When claims came along, and my summary went up, I didn't expect it to be claimed so quickly. But then uh-oh-iero on Tumblr claimed my summary, and all of a sudden I had a co-creator. She's been so awesome, and I don't think I could've asked for a better co-creator. Seeing the songs she chose for her mix, as she left them as comments on the Docs the fic was being typed in, was the best feeling in the world. The closer the deadline got, the more excited I was, and the less it felt like I could wait.
> 
> So, now that I've wasted twenty minutes typing this opening note, I'd like to thank everyone involved in this year's BBB for being awesome and helping each other out whenever someone needed it. Thank you for everything, from the bottom of my heart.

Ray has long since grown tired of his brother-in-law’s constant disapproval of his parenting style.

 

Never in his life would Ray want to keep Grace away from her mother’s family. It’s been a hard few years since she died, and while Ray knows Grace misses her mother, he thinks that she’s starting to forget, sometimes. Ray can tell his daughter stories and show her pictures but the way Ray knew his wife was a bit more biased, a bit more intimate. Her mother’s family can give Grace a little bit more perspective variety about her life, help her build a bigger picture. Even if it’s a bit abstract, Ray would like for Grace to know about her mother, about the woman who loved her and took care of her and raised her, who was always there for her for the first seven years of her life.

 

God, three years never felt so long while Christa was still alive.

 

Gideon has been on Ray’s case about everything from corsets to courting since about three months after Christa died. He’s fought with Ray over the best way to raise Grace, including but not limited to going so far as to try to turn Mr. and Mrs. Clark against Ray.

 

The issue that Gideon is pushing today is a familiar one as well. “Grace needs a governess,” he stresses, in the same tired and put-upon tone he’s been using for years. This issue, unlike others, is one he’s been on about since before Christa ever fell ill. Christa had been adamant then about being the one to raise her daughter. Ray feels the same way about it himself now.

 

“Grace does  _ not _ need- nor particularly want- a governess. Far be it for me to force one upon her when I’m perfectly capable of raising my daughter myself.” Ray tells him firmly. He’s grateful that his in-laws are entertaining Grace at the moment. There’s no reason for her to see or hear any of this.

 

“Raymond,” Gideon starts, and Ray already knows where he’s going with this. Ray always knows where he’s going with his arguments. “You work-”

 

“Yes, I do work,” Ray agrees, “my office is just down the hall from Grace’s room and my shop is just off the kitchen. I’m always nearby if Grace needs me and should I leave the house for any reason, I take Grace with me.” Just like Gideon’s always using the same arguments, Ray is always using the same counter-points against Gideon’s arguments. Ray also knows what Gideon’s next attempt to convince Ray will be, and he braces himself for it.

 

“If you won’t hire on a governess, then you ought to pull yourself together and remarry, at the very least. Grace needs a female role model who isn’t a story or a figure in a photograph.” Gideon insists. Ray doesn’t sigh, but it’s a close thing.

 

Ray isn’t ready to remarry, much less to get back into courting. He wouldn’t really know where to start, even if he did feel ready. Truth be told, he’s a bit afraid. With Christa, it was easy. He was young, just starting out, just beginning to explore his inclinations. He fell for her hard and fast, and they married a year after they began courting. Now, though, Christa is dead and Ray is a widower with a daughter whose heart is nearly as big as his. He thinks he’d want to be sure before he brought someone around, because Grace gets attached quickly, and she has a tendency to be his bias.

 

Ray is afraid of trying, because he’s afraid of what he might lose. Ray’s lost his wife, and he’s almost lost Grace once, too. He can’t go through that again.

 

He’s only got so much left. It’s not enough to risk.

 

Ray’s quite relieved when Grace comes to tug on his hand and offer him a cup of Mrs. Clark’s tea, effectively separating him from Gideon and ending the conversation. He takes hold of his daughter’s hand and walks her back into the sitting room.

* * *

 

James is abstractly aware of the telephone ringing down the hall, and of the sound of Ann, the landlady’s, voice. He doesn’t properly wake up until he hears the timid knocking on his door. James calls out something which is garbled but should sound approximately like “one second,” before hauling himself out of bed and pulling on a dressing gown and slippers.

Ann’s daughter Helene is the one standing in front of his door, overwhelmed in her too-big purple dress and with her sandy-blonde hair tamed down into a neat braid. By the looks of it, she’ll be across town with her aunt by the time James gets home from work this evening. She looks up at James from behind her lopsided glasses.

“There’s asking for you on the telephone,” Helene tells him, and James nods, closing his door behind him. When he gets there, Ann hands him the phone, wearing the same look she always does when James gets one of these phone calls.

“Constable,” James says amicably, and constable Schechter sighs on the other end of the call.

“Mr. Dewees,” he says, “I’m calling to inform you that we’ve currently got Mr. Iero in our cells.  _ Again _ .”

“What did he do this time?”

“Public intoxication. He was found reeking of whiskey and mostly incoherent by an officer last night, just after midnight.” Schechter says something away from the telephone’s receiver, then comes back to say to James, “would you be able to come pick him up, by chance?”

James says, “I’ll be around shortly,” and hangs up the telephone before heading back to his rooms to get dressed and prepare the futon.

James isn’t a stranger to Belleville’s law enforcement, on merit of being good friends with Frank Iero. The man is nothing short of a vagabond, bouncing from place to place around town. James sometimes thinks that if Frank weren’t so sickly, he’d take up piracy in the tropics. As it stands, James takes Frank in when he’s sick, tries not to be too disappointed when Frank leaves, and goes down to the police station whenever he gets a call from Constable Schechter. Even now, James still hopes that someday Frank will come to him on his own, or decide to stay here with James. It would be much better on his health. Hell, maybe Frank would stop getting sick every fortnight, even.

James gets dressed quickly, makes sure he’s got his keys, and starts walking towards stationhouse number four.

Constable Schechter is in the front when James arrives, berating Frank like he always does, and Frank is pretending to pay attention like he always does. As soon as he sees James, he drops the charade though, a large grin splitting his face.

“James,” he calls, and reaches an arm out for a handshake. Constable Schechter looks between them, trying to hide his smirk. James is pretty sure he knows something.

“I don’t want to see you here again, Iero. I mean it,” the constable says. James stifles a laugh.

“You always mean it,” Frank dismisses. “Same time next week, Brian?”

James starts dragging Frank away as Schechter calls out a firm, “Get out!”

Frank must have at least some semblance of a headache from his drink, or he knows what James is thinking, because he’s quiet as they walk.

“I thought you were staying at Jamia’s last night,” James says, and Frank nods. “Why did a constable find you drunk on the streets last night?”

Frank darts his eyes away from James. “I got kicked out of the pub, so I had to wait outside for Jamia’s shift to end. I wandered off.”

James asks, “why did you get kicked out of the pub?” It takes Frank a moment to answer.

“Some guy had a big mouth. I asked him to shut it.”

“You didn’t punch him?”

“Not until he’d hit me first.”

James sighs quietly as they enter his boarding house. Luckily Ann and Helene are both absent.

“James, don’t start. I don’t wanna hear it,” Frank pleads. James shakes his head, and stops where he was about to unlock the door to his rooms.

“I just wish-” he starts, but there’s too many way to end that sentence and none of them are right.

“Wish what, James?” Frank asks. James shakes his head.

“I wish you wouldn’t act so rashly, Frankie.”

“I’ll stop when the world isn’t full of shit.”

Frank spends the better part of the morning alternating between scowling in the direction of James’ bedroom and dozing on James’ futon. James spends his time sitting at his desk, just out of view of his bedroom door, and finishing the novel Frank and Shawn recommended him before he has to bring it to work and teach it this afternoon.

Ann returns at some point because at half past noon she knocks on James’ door offering them both lunch. The food does them both good, because when they get back to James’ rooms, Frank takes to trailing behind James like a devoted puppy, much like he has a propensity for. He grows excited when James goes into the bedroom to pack the novel he was reading into the bag holding his lesson plans.

“You’re going to teach it?” Frank asks, all wide-eyed and awed, as if he were James’ pupil and not his close friend.

“Yeah, I think Grace is going to like it.” Ray, on the other hand, James isn’t so sure about, but he knows Ray liked  _ Killjoys In The Desert _ well enough, and  _ The Umbrella Academy  _ is an older work by the same author.

“I can’t wait to tell Mikey,” Frank says, “Gerard was thrilled when he found out you were teaching  _ Killjoys In The Desert _ , he’ll be ecstatic that you’re teaching  _ Umbrella Academy  _ now, too! He’s actually been meaning to write a third installment for the series. Maybe now that you’re going to be teaching it, he’ll actually begin writing on it.”

Frank keeps babbling on as James finished gathering his things, and stops abruptly, surprised, when James begins to put on his coat and boots.

“Oh,” Frank says, “you’re leaving now?” James recognizes his tone, knows Frank wants to come with him but doesn’t know how to ask. James knows that Mr. Toro-Ortiz won’t mind, though.

“I am. Are you coming with me? Grace is growing impatient waiting for her guitar lessons.”

Frank grins so wide it almost splits his face, and asks James to wait for him as he rushes to grab Pansy from his closet. James doesn’t mind that they’re going to arrive five minutes late.

He knows Ray won’t mind either.

* * *

 

Mikey has a rule that if he doesn’t hear from Gerard at least once in a ten-day period, he’s allowed to storm through Gerard’s apartment.

Over the years, the rule has been altered. When Gerard went to New York for university, Mikey would travel to see him every Friday evening and return home every Sunday night, because he knew Gerard was prone to forgetting, especially without anything pressing, like classes or projects, looming. Once he graduated and started working at the Morrison art gallery, Mikey gave him a communication leeway of seven days. Since Kristin came into the picture, it’s gone up again, to the current ten-day period. Gerard’s failures to communicate these days have less to do with substance and more to do with his novels, and with Kristin as his editor, Mikey has multiple ways of checking up on Gerard and gauging his well-being. Besides that, Gerard loves Kristin as much as he loves Mikey, and Mikey’s glad for that. It would be a shame if his brother didn’t get along with his wife.

Gerard actually came over to Mikey and Kristin’s house two days ago, but Mikey needs the distraction, so he unlocks the apartment door. Kristin hasn’t been entirely well, lately- whatever has taken to her doesn’t seem dangerous, but it is persistent, and Mikey worries. If Mikey were to ask it of him, Gerard could spend a full day talking about anything and nothing in order to keep Mikey occupied.

Gerard isn’t anywhere to be seen when Mikey enters his apartment, which is unsurprising given that Gerard’s landlord handed Mikey his mail from the past few days. Mikey would even chance a bet that Gerard’s been holed up in his study writing since he left Mikey’s.

It is in the study in which Mikey finds his brother, but rather than writing, Gerard is painting, bright red splotching his fingers and remnants of blue on his face and in his hair. Gerard looks positively manic. Mikey rolls his eyes and goes into the kitchenette to boil some water. As it warms, he busies himself changing the water for Gerard’s paintbrushes. 

Gerard doesn’t look up from what he’s doing, or even seem to notice Mikey, until Mikey’s pressing a damp rag into his hand and Gerard looks up at him with a little exclamation of, “oh!”

“You should have called to tell me you were coming,” Gerard says, wiping the paint off his hands. He makes no move to clean his face, so Gerard probably didn’t notice the paint.

Mikey takes the rag from Gerard and resoaks it so it can be used to clean off a paint-speckled mirror, and then hands off the clean mirror and dripping rag to Gerard so he can clean his face. He says as he does so, “I didn’t anticipate coming here. I just needed to clear my head.”

Gerard frowns, through whether it’s at his brother or at his painted hair, Mikey doesn’t know. Gerard asks, “you couldn’t talk to Kristin?”

Mikey shakes his head. Growing up, he had a tendency to be laconic because Gerard always had more than enough words for the both of them, but this time, he seems a bit more willing to talk. “It’s about Kristin. She hasn’t been feeling well lately, but she’s not sick. We don’t know what is happening. I’m worried.” Mikey takes a moment to breathe, but before Gerard has a chance to speak, Mikey asks about the painting he’s been fussing over.

Gerard gives Mikey a good, hard look, but doesn’t push him, instead turning back to his canvas. The painting is unfinished, with no background and few details, but Mikey can make out two figures, one redhead in a blue jacket and one blond in a red jacket, standing back-to-back. The blond is looking off to his outstretched left arm while the redhead’s face is completely hidden. He smiles a bit as he says, “It’s us. Er, well, it’s Kobra Kid and Party Poison.”

“Is this going to be the artwork in the new book?” Mikey asks, leaning closer. As he examines it, he can see the pencil marks, sketching out Kobra Kid’s raygun, the lift of Party Poison’s arm. It’s a dynamic piece, bringing to life a scene Gerard described to Kristin when he was visiting.

Gerard shakes his head. “The printers would demand my head if I tried that, I think. The publishers wouldn’t want to pay for all the coloured ink, anyways. I was going to offer it to Grant for the charity auction.”

Mikey nods, then remembers the mail in his pocket. Mikey pulls the letters out, and the top envelope has a return address for G. Morrison. “You might speak to him soon. He’s sent you a letter.”

Gerard takes the stack of letters over to his desk, and then digs through the drawer for his letter opener. It’s quite the novelty, with a handle resembling a bat. Gerard loves bats.

Once Gerard gets the letter open, he looks surprised. He says to Mikey, quite in awe, “it’s a party invitation,” as if Grant hasn’t been Gerard’s friend and mentor for years.

“When’s the party?” Mikey asks.

“Tomorrow night,” he answers. Gerard looks quite harried. “I won’t finish the painting in time.”

Mikey gently takes the letter from Gerard’s hands, and smooths it flat against the surface of the desk. “You don’t need to finish it by tomorrow. Just make sure to mention the painting to Grant. The charity auction is still more than two weeks away, you’ll finish it in time for that.” Gerard makes an aborted head movement, as if he can’t decide if he wants to agree or disagree.

Mikey hands Gerard the next letter in the stack.

* * *

 

Putting Grace to bed usually isn’t much of a hassle, but she’s latched on to the  _ Umbrella Academy _ novel Dewees lent her with the same enthusiasm she’d taken to  _ Killjoys In The Desert _ with, and she doesn’t want to put it down. She’s been reading it almost non-stop for the three days she’s had it, and has made a rather impressive dent in the text. 

“I only have six chapters left!” Grace complains when Ray asks her to put it down and get to sleep. “I can finish it quickly, just give me a bit more time?”

Those six chapters add up to just about eighty more pages, which Ray knows would keep her up much too late. Grace has early lessons with Dewees and Frank Iero in the morning, piano and then guitar, and after dinner she’s off to spend the night at her friend Kate’s house just down the block. As much as she might feel able to spend all night reading and into the early hours, Ray knows she’d feel terribly miserable tomorrow if she did. He’ll have a hard enough time waking her as it stands now.

“You’ve already had a lot of time to read today, Grace. You’ll be able to finish it tomorrow before going to Kate’s,” Ray promises, and Grace pouts a bit, still holding the book open.

“I wanted to have it finished before James came by, so I could give it back and he could lend me the next book,” Grace explains. He smiles at her. That’s just his Grace.

“I’m sure James will understand that you needed your beauty sleep and thus need an extra day or two with the book. Besides, if you behave from now until I pick you up from Kate’s, I might think to stop by the bookshop and pick something up for you?” This gets Grace’s attention, and Ray can see her eyes light up. He’s got her attention now.

Carefully, to not damage the book or accidentally bend the pages, Grace grabs her bookmark from the bedside table and marks her progress before handing the book to Ray. Then, she lays down proper, letting Ray tuck the blankets around her and press a kiss to her forehead. “Goodnight, Missile Kid,” Ray tells his daughter, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Jet Star,” Grace says, adjusting her pillow a bit, and then, “are you sure you won’t get too lonely when I’m at Kate’s tomorrow?”

Ray smiles softly, and sits down on the edge of Grace’s bed, bringing a hand around to rub her back softly. Grace leans into the touch, looking up at Ray with her big, wide eyes. “You don’t have to worry about my being lonely, Missile Kid. I’ve been invited to spend the evening at Grant Morrison’s home, and it’s rather difficult to be lonely when surrounded by other party guests.” Ray tells her. She nods at him.

“Do you think Mr. Morrison invited a lot of party guests?” Grace asks. Ray nods.

“I’m sure there are plenty of people who will be there. Mr. Morrison is an important man, and many people know him. I was lucky to be invited.”

Grace giggles a bit, because she always seems to find it odd to be reminded that not many people find Ray to be very important like she does. “Maybe there will be someone there we know!” Grace suggests.

“Maybe,” Ray says, “I believe I heard that Mr. Gaiman had been invited to attend.” Grace wasn’t as much a fan of Neil Gaiman’s works as she was Gerard Way’s, though she was familiar with his name. Ray had once tried to read her Coraline, a few years back just before Christa passed. Grace had found it a bit unsettling and they’d delayed finishing the novel until she was older, but now Ray has misplaced their copy. They had gone together to see a few serials that Gaiman had written in the theatre, though, and enjoyed them quite well. “I could try to ask him for a signature, if I get the chance?” Grace nods, and Ray tucks the blankets around her again before getting up to turn off the bedroom light.

In the dark, Ray stops next to the door, and looks back towards the bed, despite not being able to see the bed. “Goodnight, Missile Kid.” Ray says.

“Goodnight, Jet Star.”

*****

Things go pretty smoothly the next day. Grace is more willing to wake up in the morning than she normally is, but as soon as she’s up and dressed, she dives right back into  _ The Umbrella Academy. _ Ray gives up trying to get her to eat breakfast, because she’s too absorbed in her reading. He does make a note to try to coax some food into her before he gets started on lunch.

Grace manages to read four chapters in the morning before Frank shows up, and then she leads him off into the music room for her guitar lesson. Ray follows them up, as his shop is closed for the day. Ray enjoys watching Grace place when he can, and Frank can be quite the mesmerizing guitar player as well. Sometimes, Ray even plays along with them.

Today is one of those times Ray plays along, because Frank decides to simply play a song for Grace for a few minutes and Ray also happens to know it. A ragtime number from a few years ago, which Ray learned as a bit of a challenge for himself, when he was trying to find something to keep his mind busy.

Grace gets a good start at learning the ragtime number by the time Frank leaves, and she stays up in the music room going over it again on Ray’s guitar as he walks Frank out. Frank’s guitar is still up in the music room.

“I'm going to come back in two days, so it's just as easy to leave Pansy here for the time being,” Frank says, “if James asks, tell him I'll be in town.”

Ray nods, used to passing Frank’s messages along, even if he does sometimes wish Frank and Dewees would talk to each other directly instead of through him. Ray wonders if there are others too, who mediate like he does.

Dewees doesn’t ask about Frank as he’s giving Grace her piano lesson, instead doing what he can to keep Grace on track.

“Miss Toro-Ortiz Clark,” he says, voice light and playful, “while I can see you’re eager to play some music, I would very much think it would be helpful to listen to what I’m trying to teach you.” Grace, who up until that point had been trying to sneakily work out the ragtime number from her earlier lesson, bows her head sheepishly and takes her hands off the piano keys. Dewees resumes his explanation, keeping it short and sweet before running through exercise scales with Grace.

Once the lesson with Dewees is over, Grace scampers off into the sitting room to find Ray, with a novel in hand. At first, Ray thinks it might be the copy of  _ The Umbrella Academy _ again, he can see the name Gerard Way on it in the same black font, but then realizes it’s a different book. The title of this book reads as  _ Dallas _ , and instead of a stencil of a violin, there’s a pocket watch under the title. It’s also blue instead of red.

“What have you got there, kiddo?” Ray asks, and Grace shoves the book at him. He gently takes hold of it and examines it.

“Mr. Dewees said I could borrow it, even though I haven’t finished the first one yet,” Grace beams.

“That’s great, Grace,” Ray says, “although it might be a good idea to finish the first novel before you start leafing through this one. Did Dewees leave yet?”

Grace sets  _ Dallas _ down on the table next to  _ The Umbrella Academy _ and shakes her head. “He’s putting his things away.”

“Why don’t we show him out, then?”

Together, they lead Dewees through the house and back to the front door. As they go, he asks Ray, “when would you want me back?”

“Frank’s coming back in two days, but if another time works better for you, that’s also fine,” Ray answers. Dewees shakes his head.

“Two days is fine, Ray. And Grace, perhaps try to pace yourself this time? The novel isn’t going to run away from you just because you’ve turned away for a few moments.” Dewees teases. Grace nods, smiling.

“See you soon, Mr. Dewees,” Grace says.

“Bye, Dewees,” Ray says.

Dewees waves and closes the door behind him.

*****

After Dewees leaves, Grace wanders back into the sitting room to finish the final two chapters of  _ The Umbrella Academy _ . By the time she finishes, Ray has lunch ready, so they eat together by the kitchen counter. Afterwards, Grace goes upstairs to prepare her things to spend the night at her friend Kate’s house.

She comes to find Ray with her bag in tow once she’s ready, and she’s also gotten changed. For the most part, Ray lets her run around in pants, though she does own some skirts and dresses. She mostly wears them while visiting her mother’s family, although she will also wear dresses and skirts while spending time with her friends. Grace doesn’t seem to have a preference either way, and for the most part, Ray lets her be on the subject. The skirt she’s wearing now is one she’s had a while, and she’s starting to outgrow it. It’s just a touch too short at the ankles now. Given that she and Kate will likely run around the yard and house playing, Ray doesn’t say anything.

“Ready to go, Missile Kid?” Ray asks. Grace nods.

“Ready, Jet Star!”

Grace’s friend Kate lives on the end of their street, just on the corner of the block. The house’s front door is actually on the side street adjacent, but Grace and Ray usually use the side door on their side of the block when Grace visits. When they arrive, Kate is visible near the door, and she runs out to meet Grace when they climb the side stairs. Grace is quick to rush over to her, in turn.

“You can come pick Grace up in the afternoon,” Kate’s mother tells Ray, coming to stand in the door frame as the girls rush inside. Ray nods.

“Thank you for letting her stay the night. I very much appreciate it,” Ray says. Kate’s mother waves him off.

“You’d do the same if I asked, sir. It’s really no trouble, but I ought to go in now. You never know what those girls might be getting into.” Ray, who has had Kate visit and stay the night at his own home, is aware of this. They’re not menaces, but they can cause a bit of trouble in their excitement. He lets Kate’s mother go back inside, and begins the walk back down the street.

* * *

 

Gerard arrives at the Morrison home a bit late and a bit rumpled, but thankfully no one seems to notice. To be fair, Gerard’s being rumpled and a bit late is more or less his perpetual state, so it’s likely that people would only notice if he arrived on time and completely put together. He should probably care more about the fact that this is how he’s seen, but there are worse reputations to have than slightly scatterbrained hermit, he supposes.

Grant and his wife greet Gerard briefly when he arrives, but they’re quickly swept up into conversation once again. It’s no great loss, though, as he’s sure he’ll get a chance to speak with them again later this evening.

He catches sight of his friend Gabriel quickly, and goes over to talk with him and his brother Fábio. He’s known them for years, and though he’s never worked with Fábio, Gabriel has done the artwork for the covers and title pages of both  _ Umbrella Academy _ novels. Gerard very much enjoyed working with him, and it seems the feeling is mutual.

“Do you have anything new for me to work on yet?” Gabriel asks Gerard, who shakes his head.

Gerard tells him, “I’m afraid not. I’ve got a few ideas, but I’m in the middle of writing the new  _ Killjoys _ novel, and I’d rather focus on one thing at a time.” Gerard promises to let him know when he gets started on the next novel.

Gerard spends a bit more time talking with Gabriel and Fábio, and then wanders off, only to be caught by Neil Gaiman for a short conversation about the charity auction. Once he’s finished speaking with Neil, he sees Grant is free, so he goes over to talk with him.

“Gerard,” says Grant, “how is your novel going?”

Gerard smiles. “Quite well, actually. There’s a scene in my head that’s been building up for days. I couldn’t get the details down fast enough; I gave up trying to write it for the moment, and I’ve been painting instead.”

Grant nods. “Anything of interest?”

“Oh, very, you know. Shootouts, Draculoids, those types of things,” Gerard says. “The usual, of course.”

“Any sign of Korse yet?” Grant asks, and Gerard shakes his head. Korse is inspired in part by Grant, especially in his appearance, so Grant tends to like when he’s in the story. Gerard thinks Grant secretly finds a perverse sort of pleasure in being a villain. The current scene in Gerard’s head does not include Korse, though it does include Draculoids from his unit. Gerard explains this to Grant as he tells him about the scene.

“The next chapter may be a cut away from the Zones, into Battery City. Someone has been niggling at me; it could well be Korse.” It’s not the full truth, but it’s not a lie either. There really has been a character niggling at the back of Gerard’s mind, eager to make an appearance within the novel. At first, he wondered if it really was Korse, but it’s less blank, more affected, more jaded, with a young innocence clinging to it like a loving hug. The more he follows the niggling, the more he feels unsure of who this character might be. Gerard has more or less thrown out the theory of it being Korse by now, but has no concrete lead on the true identity of the character. His best guess is that it’s either a look at a younger Fun Ghoul, or an entirely new character for the series. Gerard’s not sure which possibility excites him more.

Still, Grant seems fairly placated to know Korse might make his first appearance soon. He and Gerard have an occasional friendly disagreement about whether Korse should make more appearances. Gerard is hesitant to have Korse in the story too often, because he wants to keep him mysterious. Korse also works directly for the series’ main villain, so while he isn’t directly the most powerful character, he’s Gerard’s main antagonist for the Killjoys at this point in the series. Gerard wants to keep Korse a bit more hidden, so he can throw more at his readers later. Grant thinks he should make a few early appearances in the current novel. It isn’t necessarily a bad idea, but Gerard just isn’t feeling Korse at this point in the story.

The crowd around them has shifted while they talked, and Grant seems to spot someone near Gerard’s shoulder whom he recognizes. “Ray!” He calls, reaching out. The man stills for a moment before slowly coming to stand beside Gerard.

The newcomer is tall, six feet or so, with short-cropped brown curls and wide, unique facial features. He stands a bit awkwardly, as if he’s unsure of his place. Gerard notices that he’s dressed differently than most others here. While it’s true they’re all rather fancy tonight, the stranger is dressed closer to formal, as if he’s attending a wedding instead of a social gathering.

“Gerard Way, meet Raymond Toro-Ortiz,” Grant says, and Gerard offers his hand for Mr. Toro-Ortiz to shake. He hesitates a moment before taking it.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Way. My daughter is a fan of your novels,” Mr. Toro-Ortiz says. His voice is high and light, though Gerard isn’t sure if that’s how he always sounds or just because he’s nervous.

Gerard smiles, and he hopes it’s reassuring. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Toro-Ortiz. Please, though, call me Gerard.”

Mr. Toro-Ortiz looks down and says quietly, “I suppose you can call me Ray, then,” before Grant jumps in again.

“Ray is an apothecary with a shop on Bellevue Avenue. I’ve been buying from him for over a year now- he has the best herbs in Belleville.” Grant says. Ray flushes under Grant’s praise, though Gerard can see a hint of a smile on his face.

“I might have to stop by at some point,” Gerard decides, “I like to research for my novels and I find the best sources are always those who practice in the fields I need information about. Perhaps you’d be able to give me some information on useful home-remedies for my series?”

“I can certainly try,” Ray agrees. “It would depend on which series, however.  _ Killjoys In The Desert _ or  _ The Umbrella Academy _ ?”

The fact that Ray knows the names of the series sparks a glimmer of excitement in Gerard, though Ray is probably familiar because of his daughter. Gerard always finds it exciting when someone is familiar with his work. The novelty has yet to wear out. “This would be for  _ Killjoys In The Desert _ .”

Ray nods several times, as if thinking. “I’m sure I could find some information that would be of use to you, but I would need time and my supplies to gather anything substantial. You would be free to drop in when you’re able, if you’d like.”

At some point, Grant has wandered off, leaving Gerard and Ray talking in their own little corner of the room. Gerard notices this idly, but can’t be bothered by it. Grant’s wife is not too far off, talking with some close friends of the Morrisons, so he imagines Grant must be nearby.

“Grace will be terribly difficult once she finds out I’ve met you, I think,” Ray says, and Gerard laughs. “You’re her favourite author by far. Ever since Dewees handed her a copy of  _ Look Alive, Sunshine _ , she hasn’t shut up about your work.”

Gerard raises an eyebrow. “Dewees as in James?”

“Exactly the one. He’s been tutoring Grace for the better part of three years now.”

This is a surprise to Gerard, who knows James Dewees as a rather impressive musician who makes money teaching upper-middle class children to play piano. When he voices this to Ray, he receives an uncertain expression.

“I met Dewees through Frank. Iero, I mean. When Grace was younger, she expressed interest in music, so I thought it best she start with piano. My wife used to give her school lessons, but once she passed, Dewees agreed to do it as a favour. Grace enjoys him as a teacher, and I think he might enjoy it as well,” Ray explains.

Gerard mulls over it for a moment, and something in his mind clicks. “Does Frank teach your daughter guitar lessons as well?” Gerard asks, because he thinks he remembers Frank saying something about the girl he and James taught music lessons to having lost her mother a few years back. He doesn’t remember many details, because he doesn’t see Frank or James much, and he was still working on  _ Dallas _ at the time. He could be wrong, and it could be someone else, but Frank only teaches lessons to the daughter of an old friend. It must be Grace whom they were talking about.

“He does, yes. I think Grace expected me to teach her, since her interest in music comes from me, but I’m not really the teaching type and we learned that rather quickly. Frank was happy to take on the position.”

Gerard can imagine Frank enjoys the lessons. Gerard remembers him always being fond of children, and he’s apparently expressed to Mikey an interest in giving more lessons. Gerard would hope it could work out for him, but Frank looks decidedly not like the type of person most would want teaching their children anything.

Gerard says, “I should ask Frank to teach me to play the guitar as well, but I would be hopeless. I tried to learn when I was younger but I could never quite get the hang of it.”

“That’s a shame,” says Ray. “I’m sure you’d be a lovely musician.” He’s got a soft expression on his face, and Gerard can tell he loves music very much, that it probably lives and breathes in his bones.

Gerard can’t help himself then. He smirks. “Why, Raymond Toro-Ortiz! If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were flirting!”

Ray ducks his head. Despite this, Gerard can see both his blush and his warm smile.

* * *

 

Ray has to run a few errands before he picks Grace up the morning after the party, so he stops by the bookstore on his way to the grocery.

Finding the section with Gerard Way’s novels isn’t difficult at all, since Ray is familiar with it. It brings a smile to his face when he manages to find both  _ Umbrella Academy _ novels, as well. He and Gerard discussed the series briefly, with Gerard making Ray promise to read it, but they’d talked more about  _ Killjoys In The Desert _ . The memory of talking to Gerard is a pleasant one. Gerard makes good company.

Gerard had left the party last night with one of Ray’s cards, bearing the name, telephone number, and address for Ray’s Apothecary. He’d promised to make time to come by the shop soon, and told Ray that if he needed to, he could get Gerard’s information from Dewees or Frank. Ray’s sure he’ll have to tomorrow, because Grace will likely beg and plead once she learns Ray and Gerard have met.

Ray pays for the two novels, and proceeds to the grocery to pick up ingredients for the next few days. They don’t need much, of course, just some eggs, milk, and a little bit of meat. Anything else they might want or need to eat, Ray has some in his garden.

Once Ray leaves the grocery, he drops into the house to put his purchases away before walking to the end of the block to pick up Grace. She and Kate are outside when Ray sees them, giggling like mad. Grace’s skirt is covered in grass when she stands. When she catches sight of Ray, she calls out, “dad,” and crashes into his abdomen for a hug.

Kate leads Grace back inside for a few minutes to gather her things. When she reappears, she cuts across the lawn to get to Ray, and together they walk back down the street to their house.

“Did you enjoy yourself at Kate’s last night?” Ray asks, and Grace nods.

“Her mother had some spare ingredients, so she let Kate and I bake cookies,” Grace grins.

Ray grins right back. “I hope you saved some for your dear old father,” he teases. Grace squeals out a laugh when he reaches over to pinch her side.

“I did! I did!” Grace promises. When they enter the house, Grace sets her bag down and reaches inside to pull out the package of cookies. She hands it off to Ray, who takes the package into the kitchen as Grace follows. Her eyes immediately land on the two brand new, neatly-stacked novels on her place setting at the table. Grace tenderly walks over to the table, taking a moment to look over both books. Once she sees what they are, she rushes over to hug Ray again. “Thank you!”

Ray chuckles, patting Grace’s back. “You’ll have to let me borrow them,” Ray says, “I’ve been made to promise I would read them.”

“Who did you promise?” Grace asks, and Ray braces himself for her reaction. He makes a point not to hide things from Grace, though, so not telling her this would be unfair.

“Gerard Way. I met him at Mr. Morrison’s party last night.”

Ray spends most of the afternoon answering as many of Grace’s questions as he can.

* * *

 

**_VI_ **

_ Battery City _

_ He has to get out. _

_ He doesn’t know how much longer he’ll last, surrounded by all the white. He’s never seen so much clean, xxxx sterile, white, in his life. _

_ They keep xxxxxxx upping the dose. Each time, it’s too much and not enough, all xxxxxx at once. The pills to keep him awake make the world turn black. The pills to put him to sleep xxxx put everything too sharply into focus. The pills to xxxxxx zap his feelings put all his emotions into overdrive. The pills to make him eat stop him from keeping food down. The pills for the nausea make the sickness xxx worse. _

_ The withdrawal is hell. Being separated from xxx xxxx her doesn’t help. _

_ He can hear xxx his baby xxxx crying, once they leave. Sometimes she sounds like she’s right next to him. Sometimes she sounds like she’s on the other side of the city. The other side of the world. _

_ It all depends on the pills they give him. It all depends on the pills they give her. _

_ Sometimes, an employee gives him the pills. Sometimes, a Draculoid gives him his pills. When he’s aware enough, coordinated enough; before the pills start to have an effect or right after they cause the world to snap into focus. He’ll reach around, just past the xxxx edges of the masks. Just where they can’t see. He grabs what he can, what they won’t notice, what is most likely to be of use to him. He needs everything he can get, needs these things so he can figure it out. He needs a way out of the xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx white. _

_ He needs away from Better Living. He needs to get out. He needs to get his baby out. He needs to get her out. _

  
  


_ Ghoul bolts upright. The dream is gone, but he knows it wasn’t good. A nightmare. The city rain. His heartbeat drums _

* * *

 

Gerard’s typewriter jams.

__

It’s frustrating, and he lets out a garbelled, strangled sound when the typewriter won’t let go of the page. It tears in his hand, right across the paragraph he’d been writing. It takes a lot, not to scream.

__

He’d been close, so close, to figuring out the mystery character. It was just there, at his fingertips. Fun Ghoul had been the key. Now he’s left with a torn page and a jammed typewriter, and the idea is gone. He won’t be able to write again for at least a few hours now. This, he knows from experience.

__

He tries not to let his brain take control of his mood, but it’s hard not to think, even minorly, of those who might be disappointed that he’s not writing at the moment. Mikey and Kristin; Grant; his publishers; Frank; James. Ray.

__

Ray, with his beautiful smile and his high, soft voice, and whose daughter loves Gerard’s novels. Ray, who Gerard finds himself interested in, who keeps popping into Gerard’s head. Ray, the apothecary from Grant’s party. Ray.

__

Gerard puts aside the torn page, grabs his coat, and starts on the walk to Mikey’s house.

* * *

 

“Mikey is trying to mollycoddle Gerard again,” says Frank. James hadn’t realized he’d even arrived.

From over the edge of his paper, James asks, “why is Gerard being mollycoddled again?” Frank plops down on the chair, wedging himself between James and the chair’s arm. James gets an elbow in his side, but doesn’t complain.

“Because he’s pining away for someone he met at Grant Morrison’s last party, and Mikey’s using it to try and distract himself,” Frank says. “I’ll give you three chances as to guess who Gerard’s met.”

James’ brow furrows. “I don’t know anyone of the upper class, Frank, same as you. The only people either of us know who were there are Gerard and Ray.”

Frank lets a large grin overtake his features. James lets the information sink in. He gapes, just a bit.

“ _ Ray _ ? Gerard is hung up over  _ Ray _ ?” James asks, just to be sure. Frank nods.

“According to Gerard, Grant introduced them and they spent the evening talking. Ray gave Gerard his information but Gerard doesn’t know how to proceed. He’d told Ray that we had Gerard’s information if he wanted it.” Frank is a terrible gossip, and entirely too easy to open up to, so James is unsurprised that he knows as much.

“Do you think Ray will ask after Gerard?”

“Definitely. He’s probably long since told Grace; she’ll be anxious over the possibility.”

*****

“I’m pretty sure Frank is going straight to Michael Way’s house when he’s finished here,” James tells Ray. He looks up.

Ray wasn’t able to stick around for Grace’s music lessons today, because he’s working on an order for a type of burn ointment which has a very time-sensitive process while being made. He’s obviously made good progress with his time, which is more than James can say. Grace can’t seem to get it out of her head that her father has met Gerard Way. She’s likely still gushing to Frank now.

“Who is Michael Way?” Ray asks, still carefully measuring out some kind of oil. It’s mostly clear, with a thick white substance mixed into it. It melts when Ray adds it onto the heat, leaving a strong, horrible stench.

“Gerard Way’s younger brother. He occasionally goes by Mikey. He and Frank have been friends since they were teenagers.” Just to James’ right, there’s a set of glass bottles, and James hands one over when Ray gestures for it.

Ray asks, “why do I need to know that Frank is going to visit Mikey Way when he leaves?”

“Because Frank will likely tell Mikey about Grace, and he already knows you’re met his brother, so Mikey might force Gerard over.”

James watches Ray add the heated oil to the glass bottle, along with some aloe and some type of cream that smells strongly of herbs. Once it’s all in the bottle, Ray adds a minute amount of water and shakes it vigorously. When he’s satisfied, he sets the bottle down and moves to clean it off.

“I’ll ask Frank not to tell him, then. I wouldn’t want Gerard to feel forced to come by.”

James shakes his head. “Gerard is a very… odd person. Short of Mikey forcing him over, he’ll forget or put it off forever. I just thought I’d give you a warning that he might come by soon.”

Ray, ever the bleeding heart, frowns. He really doesn’t like forcing people to do things, or hearing about it. “Alright. Thank you for telling me, Dewees.”

He doesn’t ask after Gerard’s information. James debates leaving it anyway, but doesn’t get the chance.

* * *

 

By the time Kristin gets home, Mikey is tinkering with a keywound toy mouse, in a chair in the sitting room. He looks up and smiles at her when she enters the room.

“Hey. Did Gerard go back home?” Kristin asks. He was in Mikey’s workshop earlier when Kristin went out, prattling on about Fun Ghoul and Show Pony. Mikey nods in answer to his wife’s question.

“I think he’s going to try to read those chemistry books again,” Mikey remarks.

“I wish he’d just go see that apothecary like you told him to, or any apothecary, really. He’d save himself so much trouble.” Kristin says. Mikey leans his chin onto his hand.

“If only it were that easy,” he sighs, “Gerard’s come up with the crazy idea that Ray is throwing off his writing, because last time he got stuck, he couldn’t get Ray out of his head. I tried to make him go, but he won’t.”

They stay there quietly, for a short while. Mikey continues his tinkering while Kristin sits on the arm of his chair, one arm around his shoulder and leaning lightly against him. Once he has the toy fixed and working again, he brings his attention back to Kristin. “Did your appointment go well,” he asks, and Kristin knows him well enough to know he’s worried, and trying not to let her see it. She bites back a smile.

“As well as one can hope. The doctor referred me to a midwife, actually.” Mikey’s face scrunches together as he thinks. Kristin can’t stop her joyful expression when she tells him, “I’m with child.”

Mikey melts back into his chair. “You’re- you’re pregnant?”

Kristin nods. “I’m pregnant.”

Mikey pulls her gently by the hips, and she settles in his lap easily as she leans up to kiss him. The pair of them are grinning, mad as hatters.

“How long?” Mikey asks.

“About three months, the doctor thinks. That’s how long it’s been since I’ve bled,” Kristin says. “I’ll be giving birth in the spring.”

They’re quiet again for another few moments, just letting the reality of it sink in. Mikey asks, “do you want to tell everyone, or would you rather wait a bit longer?”

Kristin answers, “I think I’d rather wait until it becomes obvious before we start telling everyone. If they ask before that, we’ll tell, but otherwise, we wait.”

Mikey muses for a moment, “we should tell your parents first. They’ll be thrilled.” Kristin smiles.

“Your dad next, maybe. Once our parents know, then we can tell Gerard. If we tell him before, he won’t be able to shut up about it.”

Mikey laughs at that. Gerard has always been excitable, and when he’s excited about something, he could go on forever. “I’ll tell Frank and James before we tell Gerard, then.” He almost felt bad that his brother would potentially be the last to know, but he knew it was for the best. Gerard already had enough to worry about lately.

They already had enough to worry about.

* * *

 

Grace, while looking for supplies when she was helping Ray clean his shop, opens a drawer to find a sealed package of photogram orbs, still all neatly packed away in their cases. She takes the package up to her room, before resuming the task at hand.

The next day, Ray digs out their camera for her. It’s a good camera, about six years old now, nearly seven. Ray’s parents bought it for him and Christa for Christmas, back when Grace was still a toddler. It was last used the previous summer, when Ray’s brother visited and Ray took a photo of Grace with his children. Since then, the camera’s been in the back of Ray’s closet, collecting dust, so Ray decides to clean it off.

The first thing he does is open the camera, and much to his surprise, he finds an unused photogram orb inside. It looks intact, but he carefully removes and cleans it anyway. Once it’s dry, he plops it back into place and moves to clean the outside of the camera.

Grace is sitting at the kitchen table, happily reading in  _ Dallas _ , when they hear someone knock at the door. Ray looks up, startled to see that much more time has passed than he expected, and it’s past three- well past the time Dewees said he’d be over. Ray sets the camera down gently on the table, and follows Grace to the door.

James Dewees stands on the front steps of the house, with his bag over his shoulder and a clever look in his eyes as he beams at Ray and Grace. 

Behind him, rumpled and nervous, is Gerard Way. He won’t meet Ray’s gaze, instead locking it to his shoes. Ray has half a mind to think he might run away at the slightest of movements.

“Dewees, Gerard,” Ray says gently, “why don’t you two come inside.”

Once inside, Gerard fumbles by the doorway, unsure of himself. Ray isn’t quite sure what to do either. Grace is hiding behind him, a hand on his hip and leaning her head slightly around to see Gerard. He smiles softly at her, and she grabs tighter onto Ray’s hip.

Gerard kneels, close but still leaving her space if she needs it. He extends a hand to shake. “Gerard Way; nice to meet you.”

For a moment, nothing happens, but then Grace steps out from behind Ray and takes Gerard’s hand. “Grace Jeanette Toro-Ortiz Clark,” she says, as Gerard shakes her hand. Gerard beams.

“That’s quite an impressive name there, miss Grace Jeanette Toro-Ortiz Clark.” Grace giggles, and just like that, she relaxes. Gerard looks much more comfortable now that Grace is happy, though he still doesn’t seem to be looking at Ray. After a moment, Dewees comes around and claps a hand against Gerard’s back.

“Grace, why don’t you show Gerard and I upstairs, and we can get started on your lessons?” Dewees asks, and Grace nods, leading Gerard up to the music room by the hand. James stays back for a moment.

“I hope you didn’t force Gerard here,” Ray says, and he tries hard not to sound accusing. Dewees shakes his head.

“I didn’t, Ray, I promise. I asked him if he’d like to come by with me to talk with Grace about his novels, and he agreed.” Dewees says. Ray nods, and goes back to cleaning the camera.

A while later, he wanders upstairs into the music room. Grace is sitting at the table, leaning forwards raptly on her elbows as Gerard talks. He’s explaining something about his books, because Ray recognizes the names Party Poison and Kobra Kid as Gerard talks.

“So they’re really brothers?” Grace asks, eyes wide. “They’re not just pretending?”

Gerard chuckles, bright and easy. “They’re really brothers,” he confirms, and goes off onto another tangent that leads into Gerard using words like “Horror,” “Séance,” and “Kraken.” Ray isn’t sure if Gerard has begun to divulge information to Grace about his next  _ Killjoys In The Desert _ novel or if he’s now talking about  _ The Umbrella Academy _ . Ray really needs to read those books, but he hasn’t gotten around to it yet. Grace was reminding him of it just this morning.

Ray takes a seat at the table, and Gerard is too preoccupied in talking to Grace about the importance of art and colour that he doesn’t seem to notice. Grace gives Ray a smile, but she’s entirely enamoured in what Gerard has to say, and he takes her attention back easily.

“In Battery City, everything is censored. Better Living controls everything that the citizens see. That’s why the Killjoys are in the Zones, because they aren’t allowed to express themselves in the City,” Gerard explains. “They can’t be who they are in the city so they leave to the Zones. The city wants to decide who they can be, though, which is why they don’t want the Killjoys in the Zones.”

Gerard lets Grace ask some questions as well, and she has many to ask. Since before Dewees ever started teaching her, Grace has always written down notes and questions about the books she reads. Christa taught her to do this as an exercise in critical thinking and comprehension, and it’s no less than habit for Grace now, to keep a pencil and notebook with her as she reads. Gerard handles the questions well, answering enthusiastically and with sweeping hand gestures. Eventually, Ray chimes in to ask questions of his own, and Gerard eagerly answers these as well. It’s the most implemented Ray has ever been in one of Grace’s lessons.

As Gerard elaborates more about the importance of freedom of expression, with Grace and Ray rapt and hanging onto every word, Dewees quietly leaves the room. None of them notice his leaving, nor his return. They don’t notice the camera and the empty photogram case he’s holding when he enters the room. None of them hear the shutter of the camera clicking. James smiles.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d call it a family photo.

* * *

 

“I hope you’ve finally come to sense and enrolled Grace into a proper school,” Gideon tells Ray, leaning heavily against the frame of Mr. Clark’s office door. Mr. Clark himself pointedly does not say anything.

Ray tries to bring Grace to visit her maternal grandparents at least once a week, when he can. Mr. and Mrs. Clark are kind, if a bit old-fashioned, and very welcoming. Unlike Gideon, who always tries to force his views and opinions on Ray and then has to have the last word in any resulting tiff, the Clark’s are softer, more reasonable. Ray knows there are things he does that they might not understand or approve of, necessarily, but they respect his choices and trust his judgement on most things concerning Grace.

His in-laws are pleasant enough to visit when Gideon isn’t around. Thankfully, his life as a professor at Rutgers College in New Brunswick, a good thirty-five miles from Belleville, means that Gideon only visits his parents once every month or so, barring holidays or school leaves. He’s here now for one last visit home before the new college term starts, and if Ray had known, he’d have waited to visit until once Gideon left.

“Grace has a tutor, if I must remind you,” says Ray. “She is doing quite well and I see no point in changing the situation.” It’s the truth, but not the whole truth. There is only one school in Belleville, a private school exclusively for boys, and even if it allowed female students, Ray could never afford the tuition. There are other schools in nearby towns as well, of course; private schools with price tags even bigger than the one in Belleville and public schools on the brink of closure. Even if he asked, Ray’s sure his in-laws would help or even outright pay Grace’s school tuition, but he doesn’t ask. Grace has never been away from home for more than a night, with the only exception being when Christa died and Grace stayed with her grandparents for three weeks. As soon as Ray arrived to bring her back home, Grace had clung to him and sobbed for hours. She really does not like forced separation.

“I would hardly say her education is going ‘quite well’,” Gideon snaps, “she spends her time reading pointless fantasies and learning dreadful, undignified melodies.” Ray can feel his blood slowly beginning to boil, though he keeps his expression calm and neutral.

“Gideon, that’s quite enough. It’s good of Ray to let Grace have her interests, it builds character. You certainly wouldn’t be the man you are today if your mother and I had thrown out all your little treasures when you were a boy,” Mr. Clark says. He’s particularly fond of hearing his granddaughter play piano, so it comes as no surprise to Ray that they’re on the same side.

“I am who I am because I built my character at the Edgehill School in New Brunswick, father,” says Gideon. “Grace would benefit just as well from some time spent there.”

Ray points out, “Grace hates being away from home. Even with family nearby, she would find it unbearable. Forcing her to go would be cruel and unusual punishment, especially when she’s done no wrong.”

Gideon opens his mouth to say something else, but Mr. Clark beats him to it. “Grace isn’t going anywhere, Gideon. This has been established. Let the subject drop.”

Gideon seems petulant, but obeys his father.

* * *

 

**_X_ **

_ Battery City _

Gerard stares long and hard at his typewriter keys. He can feel it, feel the characters pushing against the back of his mind, but none quite want to appear. The more he pushes, the less they comply. He pushes further. Nothing happens.

For a while, Gerard just stares blankly around his office, willing something to come to him. He doesn’t know how long he just sits there, waiting, waiting, waiting. The minutes pass, or maybe those are hours. Gerard can’t tell for certain.

When general forcing fails to work, Gerard begins pushing at individual characters instead. Party Poison is in a mood, Kobra Kid’s quiet, and Dr. Death Defying just isn’t around. Fun Ghoul, though, Fun Ghoul screams.

He’s the newest member of the Killjoys, the youngest of the group. Barely over the line between child and man, he ran away from Battery City because they couldn’t control him. He had too much anger, too much rage. He was just introduced in Gerard’s last novel,  _ Vampire Money _ , and fans took pretty well to him, from what Gerard’s seen. Reckless and dangerous, Fun Ghoul lives up to his name as both an amusing and volatile force to be reckoned with. When he joined the Killjoys, he brought a literal explosivity into their lives.

As such a new face in the Zones, though, Fun Ghoul has a whole lot to learn about surviving. The version in Gerard’s head knows this, because he’s gone and fucked up, and now he feels like burning.

_ Sun fever _ , Gerard thinks. Sunburn mixed with fever and dehydration. Fun Ghoul has heat stroke.

The words come easily to Gerard after that.

  
  


**_X_ **

_ XXXXXXX XXXX _

_ Making bombs out in the sun is hotter than Fun Ghoul expects. Even so, all he can do is peel off his jacket and keep working. Party Poison was pointed and firm on his stance, of not wanting bomb parts and chemicals to be handled inside. So, Ghoul sits under the sweltering sun, measuring out liquids carefully and wiring detonators. _

_ The setting of the sun is a relief, because his skin is angry and red and he feels like itching all over. Small bits of skin are already beginning to peel from Ghoul’s arms. He finds it hard to fall asleep, because everything hurts and his throat is as dry as the desert outside, and he feels too warm even in the cold, cool night. _

_ Kobra Kid notices that Ghoul doesn’t wake up the next morning. He’s barely responsive, really, red and warm and sweating. Poison doesn’t seem concerned. _

_ “He sat outside without his jacket or mask all day. It’s his own fault.” Poison says. He’s entirely unsympathetic. _

_ Kobra rests a hand against Ghoul’s forehead. His skin feels like fire, burning and warm. Fun Ghoul makes a small, pained sound, but doesn’t wake. Kobra tells Poison about Ghoul’s current state, and he frowns. _

_ “How long was he sitting out in the sun, do you remember?” Poison asked. Kobra does, and he knows Poison does. Ghoul went out mid-morning, and by noon he had taken his jacket off. He stayed out until the sun was set. _

_ “I don’t remember him drinking any water yesterday,” Kobra admits. _

  
  


Gerard could keep going, but it occurs to him that he isn’t all that sure how a heat stroke would be treated. Ray would probably know, Gerard muses. He still hasn’t stopped by the apothecary shop, though up until now he hadn’t really had any specific questions. Now he does, it seems a good idea to make the trip.

Gerard either lost track of more time than he assumed, or less passed than expected, because it’s only early afternoon when he arrives at Ray’s apothecary shop. The sign is on a side door of the house, off to the right. There’s a window nearby with large drapes or a sheet covering it, which Gerard assume is a backroom in the shop or a part of the house itself. A bell jingles above the door when Gerard opens it, nearly falling off its hook as the door pushes against it. He gives it a weary glance, but it settles back into place.

There are jars and bottles in shelves and on various surfaces all across the shop, of various shapes and sizes. A few are labeled and a few just have writing scribbled directly onto the glass. Behind the counter, there is another large shelf, divided in two with an armoire in the middle. Instead of jars, it contains various bottles and even a few vials. Ray isn’t in sight when Gerard enters, instead popping out from another side-room. His hands are covered in a shiny, clear substance that leaves stains like oil on Ray’s pants when he wipes his hands down on them. Ray smiles kindly at Gerard.

“I hope I didn’t interrupt anything important,” Gerard says, and Ray shakes his head.

“Not at all, I was just finishing up actually. I had to make some uh- some grease…” Ray trails off awkwardly, but Gerard can infer what he means. His cheeks redden, and it makes his mind think a few inappropriate thoughts, but he forces them down.

After a moment, he composes himself enough to say, “I came by to ask for advice. One of my characters has gotten himself ill and I’d like to know how the others would help.” Ray listens attentively as Gerard details the situation, from Fun Ghoul spending a day unprotected in the sun with no water to the state he’s found in the next morning. Ray nods thoughtfully, grabbing a bottle from a shelf and showing it to Gerard. In neat letters, it reads simply  _ aloe vera _ .

“Aloe vera grows in tropical settings like deserts, all across the world, since it’s a succulent. It’s useful for sunburns, and feels cool when applied. Aside from that, really the only thing Party Poison and Kobra Kid could do for Fun Ghoul would be to get him drinking and use water or mist to lower his temperature and fight the fever.” Ray walks down to another shelf, and Gerard follows him. The second bottle he grabs is smaller, and his hand obscures the writing on the label. Inside is a brown-orange powder, finely ground. “Sometimes when lowering a fever too quickly, the body reacts by shivering. This will actually raise the temperature again, but chamomile is a muscle relaxant so it would help curb the shivering. Adding it powdered into boiling water and you’ve essentially got yourself some tea.”

Ray moves to put the chamomile and the aloe vera bottles back in their places, but Gerard gently reaches for them instead. Ray has given him wonderful information, and while Gerard can’t really pay for his words, he can pay for his products. So, this he does, buying the chamomile and the aloe vera. He waves goodbye to Ray as he exits the store, calling out a goodbye.

Ray says, “come back soon, Gerard,” and Gerard finds himself hoping to.

  
  


_ Kobra manages to get Ghoul to stir long enough to drink small, measured sips of water in intervals of roughly twenty minutes. At first Ghoul doesn’t seem to know how to go about himself, but gets used to the process before long. Poison uses a torn piece from an old ruined shirt to wipe semi-cool water on Ghoul’s face and neck, across his arms and hands. There are aloe vera plants near their diner, and they apply some to the worst of Ghoul’s sunburns.  _

_ After the aloe has been applied to his burns, Ghoul starts shivering. He still feels warm, like burning, so Poison mists his skin with droplets of water. Kobra manages to dig up the remains of some powdered chamomile from the furthest corners of the diner, leftovers from when he and Poison first left Battery City and fled to the Zones. Poison had traded a lot of Better Living pills for the chamomile, trying to find something to help him sleep. It didn’t work, but he’d traded so much for it that it was useless to get rid of it. Now that they need it, Kobra thanks his luck that it’s still here. Added to boiling water, it has the desired effect, calming Ghoul’s shaking and relaxing his body. _

_ After that, they take turns watching over Ghoul, wetting his face with water, or misting him, or applying aloe to his burns. After a few hours, he starts shivering again, and Poison makes more tea. It’s only in the evening, once the sun is long set and the desert growing colder, that Kobra notices how cold Ghoul feels. Poison frets, and paces, and frets. _

_ “He’s going to freeze to death,” Poison glooms, “all because I told him to go out into the sun.” _

_ Kobra settles his brother with a blank, neutral look, but internally he feels the same worry. “He won’t freeze to death, Poison.” _

_ They can’t move Ghoul at night, so they sit awake, afraid to speak or to make any movements at all. Ghoul shivers all through the night, and until the sun rises. Occasionally, he whimpers or shifts, but not enough to be relieving. Once the sun starts the rise enough to light the inside of the diner through long-empty window frames, Poison and Kobra gather Ghoul up and carry him down the road to Dr. Death Defying. They make sure to take stops to get cover, to hydrate, and keep Ghoul as covered as they can. _

_ Dr. Death Defying takes one look at Ghoul, ushers Poison and Kobra inside, and then tends to Ghoul. Once he recovers enough to wake, the three of them are mercilessly berated for stupidity. _

* * *

 

After the first visit with Dewees, Gerard takes up the habit of visiting occasionally for lessons. Whenever he visits, he brings articles or short stories that he’s written in the past for Grace to study, as a way to show her different writing styles and test her reading comprehension. Grace absolutely adores these lessons.

__

Gerard will sometimes stay around afterwards a bit longer, leaving separately from James. It gives Ray a few minutes to talk with Gerard, which he finds himself enjoying more and more as time goes on. Gerard is interesting and good to talk with. Ray is never bored of their conversations.

__

“Would you and Grace have plans for Thanksgiving?” Gerard asks one day, blushing red and not quite meeting Ray’s eyes. Ray shakes his head. His in-laws will be visiting Mr. Clark’s ailing brother in Hoboken, and Ray’s own parents will be busy as well. Aside from an early celebration with his parents, Ray and Grace don’t really have plans. Ray thought they might stay home for the day, and he’d make them a small dinner. He’d just spend a quiet day with his daughter.

__

Ray shakes his head in answer to Gerard’s question. “Not on Thanksgiving day, no.” Gerard lights up a bit.

__

“You could join in on our celebrations, if you’d like,” he says. “My brother, Mikey, he and his wife are having a Thanksgiving dinner at their home. Frank and James have also been invited.”

__

It’s a lovely offer, and Ray agrees to think on it. This answer seems to please Gerard, who nods, a small smile gracing his features. “I’ll leave the address here for you, in case you decide to come by. Oh, could I borrow a pen and paper?” Ray hands Gerard a pen and watches him frantically scribble down his brother’s address.

__

*****

__

Ray thinks over Gerard’s offer for a few days, but doesn’t really make up his mind until a week after the offer is proposed. He and Grace are over at Ray’s parents’ home, eating Sunday dinner as an early Thanksgiving celebration, when Ray’s mother asks him if he has plans for the holiday.

__

“I’m not quite certain yet,” Ray admits. “A friend extended an invitation for Grace and I to spend the day at his brother’s home among friends but I’m not decided yet.”

__

Ray’s mother asks, “who is this who invited you?”

__

“Gerard Way,” he answers.

__

Grace’s head snaps up, eyes alight with excitement, and that’s Ray’s choice made for him. Ray’s father asks, “Gerard Way, the author?” And Grace nods enthusiastically.

__

“He’s the best author ever!” She says, and the three adults around her chuckle.

__

Somehow, it appears Ray’s mother knows Gerard’s mother, and she spends a few minutes talking about rumours she’s heard over the years. None seem believable in the slightest, but Ray doesn’t say anything, just lets her talk until she’s finished. Conversation turns to what Ray’s brothers have been up to recently, and by the end of the evening the family is talking all about old memories and cousins they haven’t seen in too long.

__

That night after they get home, Grace tugs gently on Ray’s sleeve as he’s tucking her into bed. “Did Gerard really invite us over for Thanksgiving?” Grace asks, quiet and unsure. Ray nods.

__

“He did. He told me his brother was having a small celebration at home and that Frank and Dewees were invited so Gerard asked that we’d come too. Would you like to go?” Grace nods shyly, and Ray smiles gently. He pushes a hand through the curls on her forehead and leaves a kiss in his wake. “I’ll tell Gerard and his brother that we’ll be there, then. Goodnight, Missile Kid.”   
  


“Goodnight, Jet Star. I love you.”

__

“I love you too, Grace.”

* * *

 

As soon as Mr. “call me Ray” Toro-Ortiz and his daughter arrive, Gerard is a lost cause. Kristin is a bit relieved, in all honesty, since it distracts Gerard from asking her a million questions about the bits and pieces of his novel he keeps giving her to edit, which she hasn’t gotten around to yet. Mr. “call me Ray” Toro-Ortiz’s daughter Grace is cute, too, and seems interested in the topics of conversation Frank and James are carrying out. She’s sat at the other end of the table from them, wedged between her father and Kristin, but she leans just far enough to be seen and speaks just loudly enough to be heard, without being too obtrusive.

Gerard had insisted on seating Mr. “call me Ray” Toro-Ortiz across from himself, leaving Kristin at the head of the table and a space for Mr. “call me Ray” Toro-Ortiz’s daughter at the corner of the table, across from Mikey. Frank and James are on the far corners of the table, at the other end. It’s a bit tightly packed, considering the table isn’t very big, but it’s cozy. Kristin quite enjoys it, just as the others all seem to.

Throughout dinner, Gerard keeps making moon-eyes at Mr. “call me Ray” Toro-Ortiz, who makes moon-eyes right back at Gerard. So far as Kristin can tell, neither have noticed. She chuckles a bit to herself. This isn’t anything new when it comes to Gerard, at any rate.

“For adults, they’re not very smart, are they?” Grace asks, and Kristin turns to her. She looks serious, as if she’s really taken aback by the realization that at least one third of the adults surrounding her aren’t as smart as she expected them to be.

“Gerard and your father, you mean?” Kristin asks, just to clarify. Grace nods firmly, lips pressed together tightly.

“Dad likes him a lot, but he won’t say it. I think Gerard likes him too.” This, Grace whispers to Kristin, leaning in. It feels all very secretive. Kristin wonders if Grace is unsure whether she can bring the subject up in front of everyone or if she just doesn’t want the men in question to hear her gossiping about them.

Kristin makes a little show of looking between Gerard and Mr. “call me Ray” Toro-Ortiz before leaning in and saying to Grace, “don’t tell your father, but Gerard really likes him too.” This makes Grace giggle, and she tries to hide it by reaching for her glass of water and taking a sip. Mr. “call me Ray” Toro-Ortiz looks over for a few moments, trying to see what might have made Grace laugh, and smiles at Kristin before turning back to Gerard.

“How do you know Gerard likes him?” Grace asks, and Kristin smiles.

She says, “Gerard’s brother Mikey is my husband. We’re very close, and he tells us everything. He was very excited when you and your father agreed to come tonight, he wouldn’t stop talking about it.”

Grace’s eyes light up, and Kristin knows she’s got Grace’s interest. They spend most of dinner talking, trying to think up plans to get Gerard and Mr. “call me Ray” Toro-Ortiz to admit their feelings. A lot of muffled laughs and giggles are to be shared. Kristin decides she quite likes Grace, and would love the chance to see her again.

After dinner has been eaten and everyone has moved into the sitting room to talk (and for Gerard and Mikey to drink all the coffee), Kristin and Grace sit together on the couch, still talking about possible ways to help Gerard and Mr. “call me Ray” Toro-Ortiz see how much they like each other.

* * *

 

“You know Gerard is in love with you, right?”

Ray nearly drops the plate he’s holding, but Grace doesn’t look the least bit affected. He takes the last few steps to the table, setting the plate down and looking Grace in the eyes when he sits down. “You shouldn’t joke about that type of thing,” he tells her. She shakes her head.

“I’m not joking. He  _ is _ in love with you, anyone can see it in his eyes when he looks at you. You just don’t notice because you’re too busy making the same kinds of faces back at him.” Grace says. She looks so genuine, as if she really knows what she’s talking about. Ray wants to think maybe she does, but she’s just a child, for all that she seems wise beyond her years sometimes.

“I don’t think it matters whether or not I’m in love with Gerard, or whether or not he’s in love with me,” Ray says. 

Grace frowns. “Why not?”

Ray just shakes his head and says, “sometimes things can’t happen the way you want them to, and it’s just no one’s fault.”

Really, the answer is more complicated than that, but Ray doesn’t know how to explain to his ten-year-old daughter that some people aren’t as open-minded as she and Ray are, or that he has so much at stake if he follows his heart. His parents know about him, of course, there was no way he was keeping it from them. The Clarks also know, if in a more passive way; Ray told them once himself, fairly early on when he was nervous and wanted everything to be honest between himself and his in-laws, and Christa warned them when she was dying that there would be a possibility of Ray remarrying to a man. 

It’s completely legal, of course, and there are laws in place meant to protect those who are inclined towards the same sex. However, there are still people who believe that it’s wrong, people who will discriminate against or attack them despite possible repercussions. The law is there to protect them, but there are officers who can and will turn a blind eye at a lot of behaviour. A lot of times, as long as someone with the inclinations isn’t assaulted or murdered, charges are few and far between, but there are some corrupt officers who would surely let even that slide.

Belleville is a mixed bag when it comes to this sort of thing. It’s not the worst it could be, but it is relatively small, so there isn’t much talk of things like this. It’s mostly accepting, and the officers safeguard the law for the most part here. In that sense, Ray wouldn’t be in much danger, but courting or remarrying with a man could still lead to gossip, or even damage Gerard’s or Ray’s reputations. Not to mention “oh righteous” Gideon who believes everything he hates is wrong, and who’s challenged Ray’s parental rights legally before. If law or gossip don’t ruin Ray’s life, Gideon Clark could certainly do it all on his own.

Above all else, Ray wants to protect Grace, and if he has to break his own heart to do it, then so be it. It won’t be the first time Ray’s pushed his own feelings down in order to be there for Grace and it certainly won’t be the last time.

Grace, ever the clever one, asks, “is it because you’re two men?”

And Ray wishes he didn’t have to tell her that’s exactly why he’s scared of what it might cause, so he lies and says, “no, it’s not that. Now, eat your dinner before it gets cold, Missile Kid.” He throws the nickname in to distract her, to get her to drop the subject, and it works. She doesn’t bring up Gerard again for the rest of the evening.

* * *

 

Mikey asks, “so when are you going to ask Ray to court you?”

Gerard is not prepared for the question in the least, and sputters, choking on his coffee. Mikey does not look remorseful in the least. He doesn’t even try to help Gerard stop choking, just keeps on tinkering with the miniature clock he’s working on.

Once he’s able to breathe again, Gerard pointedly says, “I have no idea what you are talking about,  _ Michael _ .” He gets an eyeroll for his troubles.

“We both know what I’m talking about, Gerard. You need to say something to Ray, you know? It’s February- you’ve been hung up on him since August.”

Gerard doesn’t look up, instead focusing on stirring his coffee. The fact that he’s been pining over Raymond Toro-Ortiz for over six months now is not something he’s proud of, but he doesn’t know how to come out with it and asked Ray to court him. He thinks, sometimes, that he might have a chance, that Ray might return his feelings. Other times, he’s not so sure, but one thing Gerard knows is that Ray would never hate him for it. And Gerard wants, more than anything, to tell Ray how he feels. He thinks about it a lot, but he never knows what to say. When he tells Ray, he wants it to be perfect, but the words never come to him when he wants them to. Quite the writer he is.

Mikey knows of this, and he believes that Gerard is thinking far too much into it. “You don’t need it to be perfect, Gerard. Just tell him how you feel,” Mikey tells him. Gerard finds it ironic, considering how meticulously Mikey planned out his proposal to Kristin a few years back.

“It  _ does _ need to be perfect, Mikes. It’s important.” Mikey rolls his eyes again, but he isn’t mad, Gerard can tell. Exasperated maybe, but not mad.

“Yeah, well, I think you’d be better off just saying it instead of planning something elaborate or big. Frank told me he didn’t like a lot of big dramatics,” Mikey says. Gerard immediately throws out at least four potential ways he’d thought to ask Ray to court him.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Mikey.”

* * *

 

There are so many books in the house that Ray keeps most of them in a small “library” by his office, in the hallway connecting the apothecary shop to the house. It’s mostly made up of Ray’s chemistry books, though a few of Grace’s novels find their way there when the bookshelf in her room gets full.

Ray also has the photogram projector set up in the library, partly because that’s the only place there was room to leave it and partly because Grace claims that makes it a real library. They don’t use the projector much, because Ray has a few printed photos around the house, including a family photo from before Christa got sick in the sitting room and a few pictures of Grace and Christa together by his bed. Grace also has a picture of her mother in her room, and one of herself and Ray.

All the photo prints are in black and white, because coloured ink is so expensive, so sometimes he and Grace will look over the photograms together. Any time after Grace turned four, the photograms are in full colour, and it makes those moments feel so much more real. For a long time after she died, Ray couldn’t look at photograms of Christa without crying.

Grace has never used the photogram projector on her own, as far as Ray is aware, but one day while searching for her, he finds her doing just that. She’s looking over old photograms from when she was a baby. When Ray enters the library, she’s sitting perched at the end of a chair, studying the projected image from the photogram closely. Ray remembers taking this photogram; it’s of Christa and Grace, a few hours after she was born. The first photogram ever taken of the two of them. In a box on the far end of the table, Ray can see a box dated a few days before Christa’s death, and knows it will include the last photo ever taken of the two of them.

“Enjoying the photos, Missile Kid?” Ray asks, sitting down next to Grace. She startles for a moment, then laughs and scoots closer to him.

“I just wanted to see her,” she tells Ray. He nods, and she reaches onto the table to change the photogram orb.

The next one she puts in is from when she was four months old, celebrating her first Christmas. Ray is holding her, looking quite harried and nervous, while Christa stands next to him laughing. Grace tries and fails to hide her giggles.

“You always looked so scared of me! Why are you so afraid of babies?”

Ray says, “I wasn’t afraid because you were a baby. I was afraid because you were  _ my _ baby. I didn’t know what to do!” It’s a story Grace has heard before, of course. She knows of how inept Ray initially was at being a father, of how he grew used to it and got better at it as Grace grew. Something she isn’t so aware of is that he’s still just the same inside; a man who doesn’t feel ready for all the responsibility he has, and he’s afraid of making the wrong move. It’s all on Ray now to take care of Grace, and his actions have outcomes, good, bad, or neutral. He likes to think he does his best but he really does have no idea. So long as Grace is healthy, happy, and well cared for, he thinks he might be doing okay.

Ray chooses the next photogram, one of himself and Christa before Grace was born. The photo is over eleven years old, now, nearly twelve. Christa had just found out she was pregnant, wasn’t even showing the signs yet. They took one like that every month until Grace was born, and he cycles through them, letting Grace see. There isn’t a single photogram in this room that she hasn’t already seen at least once.

The photogram of Ray holding a newborn Grace for the first time makes her laugh, raucous and open and loud. He almost doesn’t want to pretend to be upset with her for laughing. In the first moments she was born, Ray was a mess of emotions. There was a child,  _ his child _ , beautiful and new and screaming. It broke his heart, and in those first few moments he’d held her, it felt like he’d never loved someone so much. Even if he could go back to that moment, knowing all that he knew now, he’d likely still cry when holding his daughter for the first time.

“This is too sappy,” Grace laughs, “I’m finding another one!” Ray studies her as she carefully chooses another photogram. She’s all of ten years old, but sometimes it seems to Ray like Grace could take on the entire world and win. If she asked, he would do anything for her, but with each passing day, there is less and less she would ask for because there’s more and more she can do herself. Often times, Ray wishes Christa were still alive, if only to see what a fine young woman Grace is growing into. He thinks she’d be proud- he  _ knows _ it.

The box Grace ends up choosing is undated- entirely uncharacteristic of Ray, who likes to stay organized. Aside from unused orbs, this may be the only undated box in the entire house. Likely Grace’s curiosity ruled this choice, and Ray can admit he’s also wondering what the photogram could possibly be.

The projection shows a scene mid-moment, with Ray’s hands waving wildly and Grace leaning ever closer to him from the far side of the scene. In between them, looking entirely intently at whatever Ray is saying, is Gerard. If he’s not mistaken, Ray would say this photo was taken back in August, the first time Gerard visited with Dewees, which would mean he was the one to take the picture. How Dewees did this without Ray ever noticing, he isn’t sure.

“It almost looks like a family photo,” Grace muses, but Ray shakes his head. He sees it too, of course, he feels it, but it can’t be that. For Grace’s sake, and for everything Ray has ever done for her, it can’t be that. He has no way to know what would happen if it was.

Ray removes the photogram orb from the projector and places it back in the box, filling in the date with as close of an approximation as he can recall to the actual day Gerard visited. In that moment, Ray wishes for nothing more than to return to the times when he couldn’t wait for Grace to grow up.

Oh, how distant those times are, indeed.

* * *

 

Grace hasn’t ever really talked with her uncle Gideon alone before. He’s never sought her out alone or seemed very inclined to humour her. The fact that uncle Gideon has her alone now makes Grace nervous, although she doesn’t really have any reason to be.

Uncle Gideon gives her a once over, and Grace forces herself to stay as still as she can. He takes a step back when he’s decided he’s finished evaluating her. “You don’t wear a corset yet?” Uncle Gideon asks. Grace shakes her head no.

One of Grace’s friends wears a corset, and another just got fitted for one, but they’re both a few years older. Grace and Dad have only actually talked about the possibility of Grace getting a corset twice - once with Grandmother and Grandfather Clark, and once alone. Both times, Dad made sure Grace knew it was a  _ possibility _ . If she didn’t want to wear one, she wouldn’t be forced to. If she decided she wanted to wear one, they’d get her one.

“You really  _ should _ get a corset, you know,” uncle Gideon tells Grace. She shrugs in response, and after a moment, uncle Gideon gets a determined glint in his eyes.

“The purpose of a corset is to keep a woman’s body in the shape it’s meant to be. A woman who doesn’t wear a corset is at risk of her body losing its proper shape. Sometimes, it’s irreversible.”

Grace’s eyes widen. No one had ever told her that not wearing a corset was so dangerous. “Really?”

Uncle Gideon nods. “Really. But girls start wearing corsets when they’re your age, before they begin developing, so that they’re not in danger of developing wrong. I’d bet your father never told you  _ that _ .”

Grace is too worried by the new information uncle Gideon just gave her to question why he sounds so pointed and angry when he mentions Dad.

*****

Grace thinks it over for just under a week before her fear wins out, and she decides to bring the subject up with Dad.

She doesn’t want him to be scared, so instead of mentioning the things uncle Gideon told her, Grace decides to say it’s because her friends are starting to get corsets. Dad still gives her a suspicious look.

“Just because your friends are doing something doesn’t mean you need to do it as well.” Dad says.

Grace tells him, “I want to wear a corset, I promise!” Maybe she says it too fast, because Dad gives her an odd look.

“Are you sure, Missile Kid?”

Grace takes a deep breath. “I’m sure, Jet Star.”

* * *

 

Over the years, Kristin had often thought about things she might do someday, when she had children of her own. As such, she had always thought corset shopping would take place long after she’d given birth - not before.

Mr. “call me Ray” Toro-Ortiz had come by two days ago, with Grace in tow, to ask after Kristin. He’d explained to her that Grace had made the decision to start wearing a corset, but poor Mr. “call me Ray” Toro-Ortiz had no idea how to go about the situation.

They make a day-trip to Newark, and Kristin decides to start at Macy’s. Mr. “call me Ray” Toro-Ortiz looks concerned and confused as they enter the store, while Grace only looks awed by the inside and all of the colourful things on display.

“Shouldn’t Grace be measured for a corset?” Mr. “call me Ray” Toro-Ortiz asks, his voice straining higher. He seems nervous, but Kristin knows he’ll hold out, because he doesn’t want to leave Grace alone.

“If Grace were older,” Kristin says, “but she’s still small. Having a new corset made to her measurements each time she outgrows the last wouldn’t be justifiable. But in a store like this, where they sell pre-made clothing, the prices are much more practical and accommodating. They’ll also allow her a bit more room to grow into and out of the corsets.”

The explanation seems to please Mr. “call me Ray” Toro-Ortiz. Grace, on the other hand, is studying some of the smaller corsets that are on display. Kristin walks over to see if she needs help.

“Too many to choose from?” Kristin asks. Grace shrugs. Among the corsets, one catches Kristin’s attention. It’s a light pink in colour, so pale it’s almost a cream white. She picks it up to show Grace. “What about this?”

Grace examines it for a moment. “It’s pretty,” she says, taking it when Kristin offers it. They continue looking, though it’s clear that Grace quite likes the first corset, as she never puts it down. She eventually decides she’s sure that’s the one she wants, and she and Kristin go finds Mr. “call me Ray” Toro-Ortiz. He’d long since wandered out of the women’s clothing and found the furniture section. When they happen upon him, he’s focused rather intently on a desk, though he turns when Grace calls out to him.

“Found a corset you like?” Mr. “call me Ray” Toro-Ortiz asks, and Grace nods, showing him the corset she’s chosen. He still looks a bit uncomfortable, but not nearly as much as earlier. “Let’s go pay for it then,” he says, and leads them towards the payment counter.

* * *

 

**_XVIII_ **

_ Battery City _

_ He hasn’t heard his baby girl’s voice in weeks. He thinks maybe they’ve moved her. He xxxxx hopes they’ve moved xx her. There will be hell to xxx pay if she’s been hurt. _

_ He tries to xxxx count the days, but he loses track. Sometimes he sleeps so long they mesh together, and sometimes he’s awake so long that more days pass for him than for the workers bringing his pills. When he can xx get away with it, he hides his pills instead of taking them. Most days, they know better than to let him pull the ruse. _

_ He keeps taking things when he can reach them, and eventually his hands take a set of silvers keys on a silver ring. The Draculoid whose keys he takes xxxxx never notices they’re gone, even when he fails to lock the cell door as he leaves. He takes his chance to leave, once he’s counted high enough in his head to know there’s no one nearby. They haven’t given him his pills yet, today, so he knows well enough to lock the cell door behind him. _

_ None of the doors have windows, so he has to unlock each and every one in his xxxxx search for her. The cells are all empty. He looks in each and every one in the hallway, every single one he can see. His baby isn’t there. _

_ Behind him, he can hear yelling. The voice is deep, harsh, male. Angry. He moves as fast as he dares, hiding where he can, and gets lost among the halls and doors of the building. He doesn’t know where he’s going. From somewhere outside, he thinks he can hear some kind of horn. _

_ The doors are all glass, and he can see at least three people, all men. They wear the xxxxxxxxx brightest coloured clothing he’s probably ever seen in his life, and they’re firing towards something at another part of the building. The tallest of the three, in a red jacket, catches sight of him first, and heards him off behind the trio. They lead him out of the city slowly but xxxxxxx surely. He tells them multiple times to go back, yells and cries out about his baby and needing to go back for her. No matter what he says, they don’t stop. _

_ Draculoids meet them at city limits,and the colourful trio push him behind them again, sending him closer and closer to the city limits. The one in blue, who seems to be the leader, gives him one final push past the line.  _

_ “Save yourself,” he says, “we’ll hold them back.” _

*****

Gerard finishes the first draft of his novel sometime in the middle of the night. He can’t be bothered to look at the clock, just scrambles to find all the pages of the draft to bind into a manuscript. It takes him a full hour to gather every single page and get them into the correct order, and he has to check them over three times to be sure. In a fit of impulsiveness, he pulls a blank page from his desk drawer and puts it into the typewriter, centering the text to as close to the direct middle of the page as he can.  _ To my dearest Raymond, _ he writes, and adds the page to the stack, just behind the title page.

Gerard loses track of his consciousness sometime in the process of binding the manuscript, and regains his composure with the sun shining brightly through the open blinds of his bedroom windows. He’s still fully dressed, his hair is so dirty it could hold itself back without aid of any pomade, and he finds his complete, fully-intact manuscript sitting peacefully on top of the stove. Gerard scrambles to move it onto the table instead, though it’s in no immediate danger.

He washes his hair and dresses in some clean clothes, trying his best to look like a functioning member of society, instead of what he really is. That being a dysfunctional idiot who can’t properly care for himself on his own. If Ray is interested in Gerard the same way Gerard is interested in him, he fails to see any reason as to why. The fact that Gerard even has friends, as bumbling as he is, escapes his comprehension.

Gerard digs some half-stale bread from his pantry and eats it, dry and hard. If he doesn’t think too hard about it, he can pretend it’s been toasted. Once he’s eaten, he gathers his coat and his manuscript. He’s not sure whether Kristin will be able to look over and proofread his novel like she has with all the other  _ Killjoys in the Desert _ books, but he hopes she can. If not, he’s hoping she’ll at least recommend him another editor, or at the very least give him advice so he can do it himself.

Gerard just hopes it will be edited quickly, so he can start revisions and the second draft. There’s still more about that mystery character just beyond his grasp, and Gerard is determined to piece everything together, no matter how many times he needs to rewrite this novel.

* * *

 

Gerard arriving for lessons alongside Dewees with papers and files of his own is nothing new. Usually, though, these papers or files aren’t hand-bound, nor are they nearly the size of an encyclopedia, and they most definitely aren’t usually handed off to Ray as soon as Gerard has entered the house.

“What’s this?” Ray asks.

“My newest manuscript. I had a copy of it made, but I thought you and Grace might enjoy the original,” explains Gerard. Grace has been insistently tugging on his arm for several seconds, and once he’s done talking to Ray, Grace drags Gerard upstairs.

The title page on the manuscript reads  _ Save Yourself, I’ll Hold Them Back _ , and when he skips forward some way into the stack, he finds it’s a  _ Killjoys in the Desert _ novel. Ray drops it onto his desk as he passes, and then makes his way upstairs to the music room. Grace is already hard at work, head bent down as she writes. Dewees has had her studying poetry for the past few weeks, and Gerard has come by for the past four lessons to help her write poetry. She’s getting better at it, though. Just last night, she started writing a song, all on her own. By the looks of it, that’s what she’s working on now. Gerard looks like he’s trying to get a glance at what she’s writing, but every time he glances over her shoulder, she moves her arm to cover her page.

Gerard exaggeratedly whines, “let me see, miss Grace Jeanette Toro-Ortiz Clark!” Grace looks up then, giggles, but doesn’t move her arms away from the page. Gerard pouts at her. Ray chuckles at him.

“Don’t worry, Gerard, she hasn’t let me see either.” Ray reassures him.

“I’m writing a song,” Grace says, with a note of happiness in her voice. “You’ll all get to hear it once it’s finished and I have a piano arrangement to go along with it!” She looks very proud of herself, all smiles and happiness. Ray himself is immensely proud as well; he’s written a bit of music over the years, but never with words to go with them, and never longer than a minute or two. If Grace’s passion is music, though, Ray will support her. He thinks in another life, he might have been a musician as well. 

“I’m sure we’re all looking forward to hearing your song, Grace,” Dewees pipes in, “although it may be finished more quickly if your father and Mr. Way let you work instead of distracting you.”

Ray and Gerard sink into separate corners. Ray doesn’t look over to Gerard, but imagines he’s also blushing at Dewees’ teasing.

* * *

 

Gideon arrives at Ray’s house unannounced and without warning, and Ray has no choice but to let him in.

It’s fairly early morning, but the sun is out and Grace is just at the end of the block, at her friend Kate’s house. She went over for the morning, giving Ray time to get a few chores done around the house. She’s due to arrive back any time, though Ray suspects it could be an hour yet. He tries to be civil in the meantime, and invites Gideon into his office.

“I should like to borrow Grace for the day,” Gideon says, and from his tone Ray can tell he fully expects to quietly get his way without fuss. Ray doesn’t want to put up an unnecessary fight. If Grace wants to go with her uncle, Ray will let her. If she doesn’t, they’ll work something out with Gideon. Dewees is meant to come over for lessons later but Ray will call him if he has to change any plans.

“Well, once Grace gets back, you can be sure to ask if she’d like to go with you.” Ray says, and for a few moments, he and Gideon are both silent. Eventually, Gideon asks about the stack of bound paper on Ray’s desk. Gerard’s manuscript, which Ray still hasn’t quite remembered to give to Grace yet. Ray explains as much while Gideon looks through it, leafing backwards through the pages. Gideon doesn’t seem entirely that interested in the manuscript, but he can be civil as well, for all that he and Ray disagree.

Ray is in the middle of a sentence explaining to Gideon the difference between a Draculoid and a SCARECROW when Gideon suddenly freezes, manuscript open in his lap. He’s nearly back at the title page again.

“Raymond, are you a homosexual?” Gideon asks quietly, sharply. Ray freezes as well.

“What?” He asks dumbly. Gideon’s eyes snap angrily up.

“Raymond, are you a homosexual?” Gideon asks again, louder this time, angrier. Ray shakes his head, denials coming forth. Ray is not a homosexual; he doesn’t know what he is, just that he likes both men and women rather equally.

It’s not something he’s ever brought up with Gideon, because Christa knew he wouldn’t like it, and Ray was already on thin ice with him since the beginning. Gideon has never thought Ray would make a good husband for his sister, and he never hid it. Ray’s not disclosing his inclinations to Gideon was both strategic and to avoid unnecessary drama, though it seems he hasn’t managed all that well. That Gideon didn’t already know is almost a surprise, however, given that Mr. and Mrs. Clark knew of how Ray was, albeit a bit abstractly. Christa had told them, when she was sick, and Ray had told them himself after Christa died, when they discussed the topic of his possibly remarrying. That no one told Gideon was because they all knew how he’d react. He’s very vocally against things of the sort, and deep down Ray knew he’d act irrationally if he ever found out. What Ray doesn’t know right now is how he’s gone and figured it out.

“Your  _ friend’s _ novel, Raymond! He’s dedicated it to you, to his  _ dearest Raymond _ , should he ever get the  _ courage _ to ask you to  _ court him _ !” Gideon thrusts the pages into Ray’s face, and it’s all there in black and white. The neat script from Gerard’s typewriter,  _ to my dearest Raymond _ , and his sister-in-law Kristin’s neat handwriting underneath, quite obviously snarking,  _ if you could ever ask him to court you already. _ Ray’s stomach drops. Gideon’s rampage continues.

Before Ray can really process, Gideon has his carriage driver inside and orders him to pack some things for Grace. Gideon supervises the whole thing, having a dress, corset and petticoat set out for Grace to change into and her other skirts and dresses folded neatly into a travel case. From her vanity, Grace’s brushes and mirror are taken, as well as some of her jewelry. Once again, Gideon makes sure a necklace and a pair of earrings are set aside for Grace. She doesn’t wear any rings yet because none of Christa’s fit her. Ray watches the flurry of packing from Grace’s bedroom doorway, still clutching the manuscript, entirely dazed and confused. His mind can’t seem to process what’s happening.

Grace arrives just as the last of her things are being put into the travel case. Laying along the bed for her are some stockings, a petticoat, corset, and a dress. Her best peacoat hangs from the door of her armoire, and her necklace and earrings are sitting on the vanity table in front of the mirror. She looks around, confused, between Ray and Gideon.

“You are to get changed at once,” Gideon says sternly, and Grace shrinks a bit, moves to do as she’s told. “The rest of your things are waiting in the carriage. We are leaving at once.”

Grace’s bedroom door closes behind her, and Gideon stomps away, back towards Ray’s office. Ray follows numbly along, despite wanting nothing more than to stay and wait for Grace. As he enters his office, Gideon rips the manuscript from Ray’s hands, throwing it roughly at the far wall. The papers hit the wall at an angle that bends them roughly across an angle.

“You ought to be ashamed of yourself,” Gideon bites out, “by  _ God. _ Did Christa know about this? Did she know you’re a homosexual?”

Ray tries to tell Gideon, “I’m not-” but Gideon cuts him off.

“I will not allow my niece to be subject to such displays of immorality. I should have known you were like this. All of those things you refused to do for Grace, and now this.” Quiet footsteps come down the hall, and Grace’s face pops shyly into the doorway. Ray has no way of telling what she’s thinking or how much she’s heard as Gideon leads her away. Ray stumbles along behind them, trying to force protests from his mouth. Nothing comes out.

Gideon’s carriage driver offers Grace a hand to help her climb into the carriage. She takes it and shakily pushes herself up into the carriage, grabbing onto the doorframe with her other hand as Gideon steadies her. She doesn’t look at Ray as she sits down, and then Gideon climbs inside and blocks Ray’s view. Once Gideon’s sat down, Ray can see Grace, but she still won’t look at him. She’s looking down instead, at her boots and the dusty carriage floor. She looks lost, almost upset, but doesn’t say anything. The carriage driver mounts his seat and the carriage begins to move.

Ray cried when Grace was born, sobbed when he held her the first time, and completely breaks down as he watches her drive away in her uncle’s carriage with barely one last look and no set return date. He’s still a mess when Dewees arrives a few hours later.

* * *

 

As he approaches, James notices something in the middle of the drive by Ray’s house. At first, it looks a bit like it could be Grace, standing with her head down, but as James gets even closer, he sees that he’s wrong.

The figure on the drive is Ray, on his knees with his head bowed. He looks up as he hears James approaching, and he looks utterly heartbroken. His eyes are dry and red, with tear tracks staining his face. No tears come forth, but he is still making sobbing sounds. James rushes over.

“Ray?” James asks, kneeling before him. Ray sobs louder, just once. “Ray, what happened? What’s going on?”

“She. She’s gone.” Ray’s voice is raw, and he stutters over the words. “He took her. He knows.”

James has exactly no idea what Ray is trying to tell him. “Who’s gone, Ray,” he asks gently. “What happened?”

“Grace,” Ray chokes out. “Grace is gone. He. Gideon. He knows. He took her.”

Okay, James can work with this. Gideon was here, he learned something that likely pertained to Ray, and he took Grace with him. James can think of a few things Gideon wouldn’t have liked to know about Ray, but there’s only one he can think of that would lead to him taking Grace away. James almost swears, but stops himself.

Slowly, he coaxes Ray inside the house, plopping him down into a chair in the sitting room and bringing him a cup of tea. Ray doesn’t drink it at first, just holds it in his hands, feels the warmth of it. 

Ray explains himself a bit more as time passes, when he’s a bit calmer. His voice is still raw, and his eyes get a glazed, sad look to them. The tear tracks on his cheeks don’t go away, though James doesn’t see him crying.

From what Ray tells James, Gideon arrived unannounced that morning while Grace was out. The two went into Ray’s office for a short time, where Gideon found some sort of document that gave away Ray’s inclinations. Outraged, Gideon ordered Grace’s things packed up and when she arrived, had her leave with him. James suggests taking Ray to report the incident to the police. Ray seems hesitant, but says he’ll go if another person comes with them.

Once James has gotten the story straight, he asks Ray for permission to call their friends. For one, James doesn’t think Ray should be alone right now, and what’s more, a group effort may help in trying to get Grace back. Ray looks rather distant, but agrees that it wouldn’t hurt to call the others over. James tries to be quick about calling Gerard and Mikey.

Of their friends, Frank arrives first, trailed slightly by Kristin and Mikey. The latter two are silent as they walk into the sitting room, though Kristin places a hand on Ray’s shoulder for a moment before she sits down. Ray tries his best to smile at the assurance, but his expression is very broken. Frank ends up plopped down on the floor by Ray’s chair, already offering ideas about how to find Grace and bring her back. Evidently, when Mikey and Kristin found him, they’d told him everything.

James is in the middle of trying to tell Frank that having him follow Gideon is a terrible idea for multiple reasons, when Gerard bursts into the house shouting for Ray. There’s the sound of rushing, a loud sound that could be a door closing or Gerard falling, more shouting, and finally Gerard finds the sitting room. He makes a path straight for Ray, pulling him out of the chair and into a hug. Ray clings tightly, beginning to cry once again as Gerard tries to soothe him.

*****

Of everyone who could have come with them to the stationhouse, Frank was probably the worst to bring, if the looks constable Schechter keeps shooting him is any indication.

James is pretty sure Ray would have prefered any of the others to have come with them over Frank. Mikey is almost entirely blank, which can be unnerving at the best of times but reassuring in the worst; Kristin has a very calming nature, especially as she approaches motherhood. Gerard is strongly opinionated and convicted when he’s convinced of something, which would have been good for Ray but bad for any constables on duty. However, so far into her pregnancy, it was best for Kristin to stay back instead of making the journey to the station, especially since she’d already left home to go to Ray’s. Mikey wouldn’t leave Kristin’s side, of course, devoted husband that he is, and since he knows Gerard so well, asked him to stay behind as well. It saved James having to pry Gerard and Ray apart, for all that he’s sure Ray is feeling that distance in this moment.

Standing in front of Constable Brian Schechter to report Grace missing brings about a part of Ray that James and Frank have never seen, small and submissive and quite upsetting to see. He still has tear-stains on his face, despite Gerard trying to clean them away for him before they left, and his eyes are still sad and wet-looking.

The look on Schechter’s face isn’t much better. James thinks it looks like a mix of annoyance, resignation, and discomfort. If he pinches the bridge of his nose one more time, it may start start peeling from friction.

“Mr. Toro-Ortiz, I’m sorry, but you cannot report your daughter missing,” Schechter says, his tone carefully blank. “By your own admission, she has been gone only a few hours, having willingly gone with a family member, with whom you know and were aware of her departure. You know where they are to be staying and you have a means of contacting them.”

With each word, Ray cracks, shrinks, tears apart. James looks between Ray and Schechter, and Schechter meets his gaze as it returns. He must see something in James’ eyes that explains more than the words Ray’s been stuttering ever could, because Brian shrinks back a bit as well.

“Listen, Mr. Toro-Ortiz. If you are unable to get into contact with your daughter or with Mr. Clark for over 48 hours, come back to the stationhouse and ask after me. I want to help you, I really do, but as far as the laws go, there is currently nothing I can do for you. I need you to understand that I want to help, but it’s simply not in my power to do so at this time.”

Ray nods, albeit a bit belatedly. “I understand, constable.” There is shame in his voice, low and hidden, but still there. Frank, much as he has been doing the entire time Ray and the constable have been speaking, is seething with anger, trying to step forward. Likely he wants to give Schechter a piece of his mind, which is nothing close to how Frank usually acts around him, amicable and teasing. James tightens the grip he’s had on Frank’s wrist for quite some time, and Frank sinks back a bit.

As they three begin to step away once Schechter’s dismissed them, the constable reaches past his desk with a card in his hand. James takes it in lieu of Ray, who only stands a few feet ahead, blank and confused.

“My calling card, so you can reach me directly. Should the matter not resolve itself.”

Ray says, “thank you, constable,” and it’s probably the least upset he’s sounded since James found him crying in the drive.

* * *

 

James and Frank are the first to leave, shortly after they bring Ray back from the police stationhouse. James shakes his head as they enter, before moving to pin a calling card for a constable onto the wall near Ray’s telephone. Ray himself goes straight to Gerard, hesitating as he gets closer. Gerard simply grabs hold of his hand and tugs him to sit onto the couch with him. He doesn’t let go of Ray’s hand, and Ray doesn’t make him let go.

Mikey and Kristin leave just after dinner, when Kristin starts to grow tired and Mikey can’t entertain himself with his tinkering anymore. Gerard sees them to the door and gives them both a warm goodbye and wishes them a safe return home, but Ray simply stays in the sitting room. Gerard decides he might as well make himself comfortable there too.

When Dewees had called Gerard with the news that Grace was gone, he’d also mentioned that he felt it best someone stay with Ray so he didn’t feel alone. Gerard had volunteered, of course, but it would likely have fallen to him even if he hadn’t. Given his ability to have full conversations in empty rooms, not to mention how well he and Ray get along, it wasn’t much of a conclusion to assume he’d be best to stay. Gerard also has a soft side, knows when to talk and when to stay quiet. He can read Ray well, or likes to think he can, staying quiet when Ray needs it and trying to fill the silences when it seems Ray is falling too deeply into himself.

For his part, Ray doesn’t say too much- he hasn’t said much all day. Not that Gerard blames him, of course, but it does make it a bit shocking when Ray turns to him suddenly and says, “the reason Grace and I were so close was because of you.”

Gerard must be quite good at imitating a fish, because his mouth opens and closes several times as he tries to find a way to react. Ray doesn’t seem to notice.

“It was after her mother died. Initially, she was to spend a day or two with her grandparents, my in-laws, so that I had time to make arrangements. It’s usually customary to do something of the like, although children often spend weeks or months away from home. Grace didn’t like being apart from her mother and I, though- still doesn’t like being apart from me. But Gideon had issue with me, even then, and held me up. It was three weeks before I finally got to bring Grace back home.

“She wouldn’t speak to me, at first. I tried, so hard, to just get her to say  _ one thing _ . Any small thing would have meant the world, but she didn’t want to talk. Dewees mediated, when he first took over her lessons. Her schoolwork gave her a reason to ignore me, though she didn’t have much. Her music lessons kept her busy too. And then Dewees assigned her to read one of your novels.  _ Look Alive, Sunshine _ .

“Something about that book drew her in, brought her back out of her shell. The first time she spoke to me after Christa’s death was to ask if I’d read the novel myself. I couldn’t bring myself to say no, and I ended up taken with the world you’d built as well.”

They stay quiet for a few moments. Ray just breathes, tense, as if there’s more he wants to say but can’t bring himself to do it. Gerard tries to think of something he could say, anything, as long as it doesn’t ruin this moment.

“I’ve had people- fans- tell me before that my work inspired them, helped them, but I think this is the most wonderful thing I could have ever inspired. However, I fail to see how my novel brought you together. The closeness you have with Grace can’t simply be my doing.”

Ray takes Gerard’s hand. “It really is, Gerard, I promise you. Grace and I spent a lot of time trying to live like Killjoys after first reading your novels, that was part of what got us so close. We even had nicknames for eachother inspired by your book. The thing that really helped us was simply reading the books together, though.”

Gerard has honestly never felt more touched by anything anyone has told him about his writing. Not the brief approval of his parents, or the constant impressed state Mikey held when they were young, or even the praise Grant Morrison gave Gerard just before they first began working together. He finds Ray’s words go straight to his heart, make him long for things he really shouldn’t. Instead, he says, “what kind of nicknames could my books have possibly inspired?” He tries to sound teasing, but mostly it comes out confused and unsure.

Ray answers immediately, “Jet Star and the Missile Kid.” After a moment, he seems to decide he needs to explain more, so he adds, “Grace enjoyed playing  _ Killjoys _ back then. She came up with a name for herself, something  _ Star _ . It started with an M, I remember, but it was a name she created herself. I would often confuse it with the word missile, and the “kid” comes from the fact that beforehand, that was my endearment for her. I took on the name  _ Jethro Star _ myself, since it was the most exotic name I could think of. Grace was the one who shortened it to Jet.”

The reminiscence on Ray’s face is quite striking. There’s very little, if any, sadness in his expression or his posture right now. Gerard decides to continue on this line of happy remembrance. “Tell me about them, Jet Star and the Missile Kid. How did you envision them?”

“The Missile Kid was almost entirely identical to Grace, but for her behaviour. She likes colourful, loud things, and her behaviour was very loud and colourful to match. One of her imaginary scenarios had me captured by Korse himself, and she was the one to come to my rescue, all on her own. Small but capable, that Missile Kid.” Gerard has since pulled out his notepad, and has begun writing as much down as he can. It fits like the missing piece of a puzzle in his head, and he can already see changes and additions and things to cut from his first draft. “Jet Star was more like the man I sometimes hope I could be. Brooding, a bit, dark. He wears black down to the nines. A real frontiersman, if ever there was one. Always covered in dust, and rather unkempt. The biggest difference between us is probably the hair.”

Here, Ray stops, and Gerard grins. “You can’t just leave me with that! Describe his hair to me, will you? What makes it so different?”

“No man in all of the United States would ever be seen with such hair as Jet Star’s,” Ray teases. “You know how my hair is, and you’ve seen Grace’s curls. Imagine hair like that, all the way down to a man’s shoulders. I’d love to have hair like that, but I could never manage it if I did, I don’t think.”

Gerard can all too easily imagine a man with hair like Jet Star’s; can all too easily imagine  _ Ray _ with hair like that. It’s a glorious image in his head, and Gerard pushes it down because he can think too long and hard on it. Instead, he tries to think of something else he could say or ask Ray. He finally lands on a subject, hoping dearly it won’t be a sore spot. Ray beats Gerard to it.

“I never thought something like this would happen again. How foolish of me to think that something as simple as a dismissed legal battle would keep Gideon from going after Grace again.” Ray says. 

“Legal battle,” Gerard asks, and Ray shakes his head.

“It’s not important.” The words are too quick, too clipped, but Gerard lets the subject drop. Ray is wilting like a flower in the desert, and he can’t very well leave him for bed like that.

* * *

 

Gerard is careful not to bring it up again with Ray, but he can’t get the curiosity about Ray’s  _ legal battle _ with Gideon. He mulls it over in his head as he stays up in Ray’s sitting room all night. Ray himself disappears just past midnight, and Gerard finds him curled up on the floor beside Grace’s bedroom door. It doesn’t look like he made any effort to open the door, instead choosing to sit or lay outside of it. Gerard manages to wrestle a pillow under his head and spreads a spare quilt over him. Ray, completely asleep and unresponsive, doesn’t even flinch.

Gerard goes searching for some paper after he’s written and drawn all over the supply he already had, and finds some in Ray’s office. He feels terrible, like he’s snooping, even if he hasn’t gone through any of Ray’s files, and even though he’s seen Ray’s office before. The only thing Gerard looks at other than the stack of papers he knows are in Ray’s second desk drawer is a hand-bound stack, folded harshly and laying haphazardly on the floor. He turns it over to find that it’s his manuscript, the cover page mostly torn off and revealing the dedications. The dedications which, Gerard realizes, are rather incriminating, just like Ray had told James was the document Gideon had stumbled across. Gerard feels sick with the realization.

So it’s Gerard’s fault that Grace is gone. The thought alone makes him nauseous. In his own impulsive, stupid way of trying to tell Ray how he feels, he got Ray’s daughter kidnapped. Thinking back to the conversation he and Ray had earlier, Gerard begins to question Ray’s motives. Gerard had been under the impression that this was Ray trusting Gerard to listen while he worked through things in his head, but perhaps it was something else. Maybe it was Ray making veiled attempts to hint to Gerard at what he had caused.

Gerard just stays there, frozen, in Ray’s office with the manuscript in his hands, until the sun has risen and he can hear Ray starting to get up from across the hall. When Ray calls out a confused, “Gerard,” he jumps.  The manuscript falls from his hands as he rushes towards the door.

“What were you doing in my office?” Ray asks, rubbing his eyes. Gerard shifts, tries not to appear nervous or suspicious.

In answer of Ray’s question, Gerard says, “I was looking for paper!” If he says it too high or too fast, well, Ray is still in the process of waking up, and Gerard is certain he won’t notice.

Ray seems satisfied by the answer, though, and nods. “Just in the second drawer,” Ray reminds Gerard. He walks off further down the hall towards his own room after receiving a nod from Gerard.

Gerard closes Ray’s office door without going back for the paper, and proceeds to curl in on himself in the sitting room.

*****

The forty-eight hours requested by Constable Schechter pass without any contact from Grace or Gideon. Ray has tried several times; Gerard and James took turns trying from their residences; Ray’s in-laws even attempted to get ahold of their son and granddaughter. No one has heard from Gideon Clark since he left Ray’s home, it seems.

Even Rutgers College doesn’t know where he is, which is an alarming fact for the Clarks to learn, as he’d been meant to give three classes of students final exams in the days he’s been missing. With such a large number of people unable to get into contact, James brings Ray back to the stationhouse to report Grace properly missing.

Schechter isn’t there this time. Gerard had called ahead before they left to ensure he’d be waiting, but they’re told by the officer at the desk that he’s been urgently called away just before they arrived. The officer tells them they’re free to wait for him to return, although it may be some time, but Ray shakes his head. He briefly reaches behind him to squeeze Gerard’s hand before letting go, stepping forward, and saying, “perhaps you can help me instead. I’d like to report my daughter Grace missing.”

The officer leads Ray off into another room in order to ask him questions, and extends the offer to James and Gerard as well. Both decline, and Gerard is sure he imagines it when Ray’s expression falls minutely when he says he’ll stay in the front of the stationhouse to wait. It can only be Gerard’s imagination, though, as Ray must hate him. There’s no other possibility, not after Gerard found the manuscript. A hopeful part of his brain tries to insist Ray doesn’t actually hate him- after all, why else would Ray want Gerard to come to the stationhouse if not for his comfort and company? But the logical part of Gerard assumes it’s because Ray will tell the officer about which document exactly got Grace kidnapped and Gerard will be charged here and now. It’s easier to arrest a man already within the police’s grasp, for that matter.

James and Gerard spend a fair bit of time waiting. Eventually, the officer who led Ray away comes back to man the desk. Another policeman disappears towards where Ray was led. The second policeman comes back, and a third, one who looks like a detective, goes back. When the detective returns, he leads Ray back with him. He has tear tracks on his face, and his eyes are red. Gerard aches to go comfort him, but doesn’t. Ray stops in front of Gerard, trembles, but stands tall before the detective.

“Whatever Constable Schechter told you, he was out of line. We will not pursue this case, Mr. Toro-Ortiz. I hope I don’t see you back here again.” The detective’s words are sharp, harsher than needed, and Ray flinches a bit. He nods silently, and ducks his head. The detective leaves without another word.

James and Gerard share a look. “They’re not going after Grace?” James asks, an incredulous note in his voice. Ray sits down between them, leaning back towards Gerard. Gerard shies away.

“They wanted to call Gideon’s work to verify that he hadn’t been back. When they found out he was a professor at Rutgers College, they decided that it wasn’t worth their time,” Ray explains. He sounds resigned.

“But Gideon’s caused you trouble before, hasn’t he? Wouldn’t that be in their records?” Gerard asks. Ray shakes his head.

“Gideon went through the police in New Brunswick three years ago. Belleville wouldn't have record it, and they wouldn’t be able to access the records either,” James tells him. It takes a moment for Gerard to remember that James was teaching Grace piano lessons back then, and thus would know about the specifics of Ray’s  _ legal battle _ with Gideon.

Gerard can’t help but wonder what exactly happened three years ago between Ray and Gideon. 

* * *

 

Gerard feels kind of absolutely terrible for going behind Ray’s back, but something needs to be done.

It started with his unrestrainable curiosity about Ray’s  _ legal battle _ and grew from there. Grant helps Gerard gain access to the legal reports about the case,  _ Clark V. Toro-Ortiz _ , in which Gideon sued Ray for custody of Grace Jeanette Toro-Ortiz Clark, citing inadequate parenting. In the intermittent time between the charges being brought up and the end of the trial, Grace was sent to stay with her grandparents, Elizabeth Taylor Clark and Alexander Clark. This period, from December 21st, 1892, until January 11th, 1893, lasted exactly three weeks. Ray’s background and character were investigated, and all close friends and family interviewed, with the exception of Grace. Officers went through Ray’s entire house five times at random, and during these searches, Ray was neither allowed into the house with the officers, nor could he leave the property. Eventually, a judge ruled that Gideon’s claims were unsubstantiated and ordered that all charges against Ray be dropped, and that Grace be returned to Ray’s care.

As Gerard well knows, Grace was shaken up by the event, and had trouble talking to Ray upon her return. As he finds out, the “dropped charges” still appear in Ray’s police records, with little clarification on their status. It’s no wonder the officers treated him so badly.

Ray’s in-laws, of course, are initially hesitant to talk to Gerard about the situation. He gives them time to make up their mind, looking into as much as he can that might help, but they eventually get back to him and agree to talk with him. He gets a good interview with them, which clarifies some of the issues between Gideon and Ray over the years and allows Gerard more insight into what’s happening with Gideon now.

One week after Ray tried to report Grace missing for the second time, Gerard sits down at his desk to write, only surfacing in the early morning light.

* * *

 

BELLEVILLE TIMES

Monday, April 20, 1896

_ Belleville police ignore missing persons case _

_ by Gerard Way _

For Mr. Raymond Toro-Ortiz, the morning of April 10 seemed to be just like any other day. The only unusual part of his day seemed to be a surprise visit from his brother-in-law, Prof. Gideon Clark, who asked to spend the day with Toro-Ortiz’s young daughter, Grace. Following a short conversation in Toro-Ortiz’s office, Prof. Clark flew into a rage, taking Grace with him as he left in a rush.

Mr. Toro-Ortiz reported the incident to Belleville’s police stationhouse number 4 that afternoon, and was told by a very apologetic constable that he could not file a report regarding the incident for at least 48 hours. Once the allotted time had passed, Toro-Ortiz returned to the stationhouse after arranging to speak with the same constable, only to find he’d been sent off. Instead, Toro-Ortiz was shuffled off to speak with two seperate officers and a detective, before eventually being sent off himself. No incident file was ever taken by the stationhouse.

This incident is not the first of its kind involving Mr. Toro-Ortiz and Prof. Clark. In December of 1892, following the death of Toro-Ortiz’s wife, Clark filed a report against him, claiming he was unfit to raise his daughter alone. Grace was then left in the custody of her grandparents, Elizabeth and Alexander Clark, for the duration of the investigation and trial period. A judge in New Brunswick, New Jersey, later deemed Toro-Ortiz to be entirely fit as a parent, and ordered the charges against him to be dropped. Police records do not reflect this, however, as the charges still appear under his name, with no clarification as to their status. There are no charges in Prof. Clark’s files with the New Brunswick stationhouse either, despite the fact that he falsified his claims against Toro-Ortiz.

When asked about both incidents, Mr. and Mrs. Clark were open and honest about the tension between their son and son-in-law. “Gideon never thought Ray was quite good enough for Christa,” Mrs. Clark said, “and when she passed, he decided that Grace needed a more ‘proper’ influence.”

“Raymond’s a good man,” Mr. Clark added. “Gideon could never admit it. My son is also rather stuck in his ways, and the two don’t agree much.” According to Mr. Clark, the professor had fought with Toro-Ortiz over a number of subjects over the years, ranging from Grace’s interests in novels and music to her tutor. Prof. Clark apparently wished for Grace to lead a more privileged, proper lifestyle.

Grace’s tutor, James Dewees, claims that Toro-Ortiz did more than just that. Dewees has been Grace’s piano teacher for years, and took over her schooling after Mrs. Toro-Ortiz passed. Aside from piano lessons, Grace was also learning to play the guitar, and according to Dewees, she took to both music and schooling with intense interest and passion. Her tutoring notes would place her at par or above average to students her age enrolled in several nearby schools.

Following Mr. Toro-Ortiz’s failed attempts to report the kidnapping of his daughter, several close friends and family members have tried to report the incident as well, the most high-profile of which being Grant Morrison, a long-time client and friend of Toro-Ortiz. Prof. Clark’s workplace, Rutgers College, also inquired with police in New Brunswick following the incident, when Clark failed to report to work, but all inquiries were ignored or denied. Toro-Ortiz was initially told the case would not be pursued due to Clark’s work as a college professor. At least two friends were told they could not report the kidnapping as they were not immediate family, and the Clarks were never given a proper reason. Morrison was told by police in both New Brunswick and Belleville that there was no proof a kidnapping had ever taken place, as no evidence was ever gathered from the Toro-Ortiz home.

As of publication, Belleville police still refuse to open a case against Prof. Clark, and no action has been taken to locate Grace. The only police interest is from Constable Brian Schechter, who has offered to work  _ pro bono _ in an attempt to find Grace. He has since been ordered by superiors not to get involved with Toro-Ortiz.

* * *

 

It’s two days before Ray finds out about the article.

Frank is the one to tell him. In an attempt to keep his mind off things, Ray has been avoiding the newspaper. While he doubts Gideon would do anything extreme, he’s afraid of seeing Grace’s name on the front page of the Belleville Times, alongside some terrible headline. Frank, of course, finds this ridiculous, and proceeds to find the newspaper from a few days before to prove to Ray that his fears are unfounded.

It’s maybe not the best article Frank could have shown Ray, because it  _ does _ have a terrible headline and it  _ does _ have Grace’s name, just maybe not in the way Ray would have feared. It also has another familiar name;  _ Gerard Way _ **_._ **

Ray doesn’t even bother telling Frank where he’s going, just takes the paper in his hand and rushes out the door. Ray’s never been to Gerard’s apartment before, but he knows where it is, not a fifteen minute walk from his own home. He’s not even halfway there when he runs into Gerard. Ray grabs his left arm, hauling him to a stop in front of Ray.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Ray asks, and it comes out angrier than intended. Gerard shrinks back as if he’d been struck. Ray loosens his grip.

Ray has never known Gerard to stutter, but that’s just what he’s doing now, nervous and tense. “Ray, I- I didn’t-” Ray shushed him.

“Not here,” he says, and Gerard nods. Without words, he begins to lead Ray back to his apartment.

It’s as they enter the apartment that Gerard seems to find the words he wants to say. “I was just trying to help,” he says. His voice still have that quiet, timid tone to it, and Ray feels a pang of guilt. “This was the only way I could think of to help.”

“I’m not so sure this will help,” Ray responds. Gerard shakes his head.

“Articles like this are published all the time, Ray, and they help!” Gerard steps forward, takes the article from Ray and looks down at it. “People see articles like these and they start to look. They spread the word to their friends and if they have information, they take it to the police investigating the case.”

Ray’s seen it before. Hell, Frank has helped because of this before, about two years ago, after he’d told Dewees he’d overheard talk about a recent kidnapping. “Usually, those articles are on the front page, Gerard! You don’t work for the Belleville Times. You’re not even a reporter, you’re a novelist. How did you even get this published?”

“Grant. He runs the editorial department of the Belleville Times, and he let me submit the article. I just wanted to help, Ray, you have to understand that.” Gerard has this certain expression sometimes, so earnest and hopeful that it hurts. He wears that expression now, eyes wide and staring full-force in Ray’s, and all the fight he had immediately leaves him. Not that he really had that much to begin with, of course.

“Gerard…” Ray shakes his head. “I understand that you want to help, I really do, but I don’t know if this article will. Everyone knows you know Grant, and they know I know Grant, and they probably know that we know each other. Your writing an article about Grace is bound to raise more questions over your character- over my character- than it is to help.”

Ignoring every instinct he has, Ray lets himself fall into one of Gerard’s chairs, hunching forward with his hands resting on his knees. He sees Gerard coming towards him from the corner of his eye. “I’m sorry, Gerard. I appreciate the effort, but I’m sorry.”

Gerard gently brushes his fingers against Ray’s left arm. “You really don’t know, do you? Frank and James didn’t tell you?”

“I haven’t seen James in two days,” Ray says, then, “tell me what?”

“The police opened a case against Gideon for kidnapping Grace. Constable Schechter convinced them yesterday, because of the article.”

* * *

 

Despite new police involvement, little information is coming up on Gideon of Grace, as they seem to have disappeared. Frank offers to do some digging himself, but Dewees quickly shoots him down.

“How dangerous can he be, James, it’s  _ Gideon! _ ” Frank exclaims. Dewees shakes his head.

“He hasn’t been seen by anyone in over two weeks and he’s got police all across New Jersey  _ and _ in New York state looking for him. I know you’re not stupid, Frank, and you’re not a copper. Let Schechter and his boys do their jobs.”

Ray focuses on the spat as a distraction. It’s been three days since Gerard told him about the police getting involved with Grace’s kidnapping, five since his article was published, and Ray can’t stop thinking about it. It’s been fifteen days since anyone has heard from Gideon or from Grace. Even after more police departments have joined the search in the past three days, nothing is being found. Ray is caught between wishing it would end already and being terrified of what will happen when it does. 

Gerard, sitting next to him, is acting just as fidgety as Ray feels. He can’t seem to stay still, to the point that Mikey has long since moved from Gerard’s other side to stand next to Kristin’s chair. Gerard’s left leg bounces, and then both legs, and then just his right. He wrings his hands and taps his pencil and smooths his papers down. Ray wonders if Dewees and Frank aren’t just having a disagreement so they don’t need to hear Gerard’s worrying.

Ray reaches over and closes a hand over Gerard’s own, where he’s begun to stain his fingers on the tip of his pen. Every single one of his movements immediately stop. “You’d think Grace was your daughter, for all your concern,” Ray teases. Gerard looks down, licks his lips, looks up again.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, “it’s just weird, you know? Before, I put so much effort into finding some way of getting her home, or of getting even one more person to care. Now that the investigation’s actually ongoing, all we can do is wait, and it’s nerve-wracking. I don’t think I was even this nervous waiting for  _ Apocalypse Suite _ to be published.” Ray knows what he means. The last time he was so worried about Grace was when Christa was giving birth to her. He feels like everything he has, every piece of him, is pent up and holding its breath, waiting for any sort of answer, small or big or good or bad.

The phone rings. Everyone in the room freezes.

Ray forces himself up and into the other room, where the ringing telephone is. Gerard follows, close, but respecting Ray’s space. Ray picks up the phone.

“Hello?” He says. In the background, there are a litany of voices. Whoever is calling is in a public place, it seems.

“Mr. Toro-Ortiz? This is Constable Brian Schechter of the Belleville police.”

Ray’s eyes widen. Gerard looks concerned. “Yes, Constable?”

“It’s about your daughter, Grace. We found her.”

Ray drops the telephone receiver, and crumples to the floor.

* * *

 

After Constable Schechter’s call, it almost seems like none of them know any English, for a few minutes. The tension and nerves from before the call are gone, replaced by something heavier. A mixture of relief and gratitude weighs them all down. None of them want to think it, but they know there was a chance that call could have been an entirely different call just now.

According to what Ray manages to repeat to everyone, Gideon was caught that very morning in New York City, trying to get himself and a young girl onto a ship to England. Due to the young girl’s hesitancy to step onto the ship and her apparent fear of Gideon, the two were taken aside for questioning. After confirmation that the young girl was Grace, and that Gideon was not her legal guardian, he was arrested for trying to flee the country with Grace. The police in New York then called stationhouse number four in Belleville, and transport for Grace was arranged immediately. Grace would be expected to arrive in Belleville the next day, while legal procedures would keep Gideon in New York for the time being.

Everyone stays at Ray’s house that night. He gives up his bed to Kristin and Mikey, and James takes the spare bedroom. At some point in the evening, Frank disappears, probably to find a hidden corner or rarely-used piece of furniture where he could sleep. Gerard and Ray, though, stay up.

Gerard suspects that Ray is too strung up to fall asleep anytime soon. He himself has probably had one too many cups of coffee this evening, but he knows he’ll burn himself out before too long. He can feel the caffeine wearing off as time passed. Ray, though, looks wide awake. “You can stop worrying about her,” Gerard says softly. Ray shakes his head.

“No, I can’t. I’m her father, that’s my job.” Gerard can’t think of an answer to give Ray, so he hums instead. He wishes he could lean against him, give him comfort, but it’s not Gerard’s place. He leans against the couch instead, eyes growing heavy.

As far as Gerard knows, Ray never gets to sleep that night.

In the morning, the tension begins to grow again. Now they’re all waiting for another call, the one that will mean that Grace is back in Belleville. The worst of them is Ray. He can’t even remain sitting anymore, and every line of his body is tense. Shoulders tight, back straight, he paces, small steps in a short line back and forth. He’s much less obnoxious than Gerard was, but much more noticeable. Frank gives him a good hit to the shoulder, but it makes him draw himself in more. Nothing they say can get Ray to be still.

They’re waiting for it, but it’s still unexpected when the phone rings. Gerard jumps. Ray rushes off to answer it, a quiet murmur from an adjacent room. Within two minutes, he comes back, pulling on his coat. “It’s time,” he says, and the others follow him out the door.

Gerard sees Grace as soon as they enter the stationhouse. She’s off to one side, near the front desk, with Constable Schechter sitting with her. His usually stern demeanor is toned down, and he almost looks soft. If Gerard didn’t know any better, he’d guess Schechter was a father as well. Once Grace sees them, though, she stands, rushing straight towards Ray. “Jet!” Grace cries, and throws herself into his arms, sobbing.

Ray, who’d knelt down on one knee, wraps his arms tight around Grace. He makes a noise of his own, and Gerard would almost dare call it a sob, though he isn’t crying. Gerard can see the effort it takes him not to squeeze her too tight, just so happy to have her back in his arms.

James comes up beside them, and gently rubs a hand down Grace’s back. “Hey there, Miss Toro-Ortiz Clark. Glad to have you back.” Grace doesn’t let go of Ray, barely even acknowledges James, just keeps holding on. Even when Ray’s asked by Constable Schechter to fill out a few forms, Grace doesn’t let go, just crowds closer. He has to fill in the papers with Grace balanced on his hip, making her look even smaller than she is. She won’t let Ray put her back down once they’re free to go, and he has to carry her all the way home. The others all crowd around them, like they could protect them, and a few people watch the group as they pass. Gerard can’t tell if it’s because they look odd or because Grace’s crying is really that loud. Gerard would hate if people think something’s wrong, when really everything has just been fixed.

Back at Ray’s, Grace still refuses to let go of him. Her tears have slowed, and she’s quiet now, though her eyes are still watering and red. Ray and Grace end up settled together in a large armchair, the very same one Kristin sat in last night. Ray pushes himself as far to the side as he can, but Grace just presses against his side, half sitting on his lap. With everyone really looking at her, they’re beginning to see just what toll her time with Gideon has physically taken on her.

Her face is covered in dirt, and her hair unrulier than normal. Her dress, which when she left was one of her nicest, looks like she’s been wearing it the entire time she was gone. One sleeve is torn halfway off, as if Grace had been pulled or jerked roughly by the left arm, there’s a tear across a side seam of the skirt, and the entire dress is stained by what looks like dirt and grass marks. Kristin eventually steps forward, offering Grace a hand. “Do you want to come with me and get changed, Grace?” She asks gently. Grace startles rather harshly, pushing herself further against Ray. There’s a tangible terror in her eyes.

“No!” She screams, and tears begin welling up again, “no! No, no, no!”

Everyone freezes, and Kristin takes a step back.

* * *

 

Eventually, Grace stops crying completely, and even holds short conversations with everyone, one at a time. She gives a quick hug to Kristin before she and Mikey leave, and shakes hand with both Frank and James as well. When she starts drooping, clearly tired out, Ray tries to get her to go to bed, but she breaks down and starts crying again. Ray, harried and concerned, eventually relents, and she remains nestled in the armchair with him while she begins to doze.

Gerard isn’t sure whether he should stay or go. He’s trying to work up the nerve to ask when Ray tells him, “you can sleep in the spare bedroom tonight. I’m gonna take the Missile Kid with me and head up to bed myself. Goodnight, Gerard.” As he passes with Grace against his shoulder, he lets his hand brush Gerard’s shoulder.

Gerard doesn’t say anything, just sits quietly for another few minutes until he’s sure he won’t run into Ray again, and finds the guest bedroom on his own.

The next day, Grace is still glued to Ray’s side. She takes up a position just behind his back, fingers caught into his belt loops and hand gripping his. He’s at some point managed to convince her to change, though, and she looks much more comfortable in pants and a loose shirt than she did in her ruined dress. Ray tries to get a few things done in the morning, but by noon he’s given up, and settles back in the sitting room with Grace. Gerard hesitates, about to get up, but Ray motions him towards them. He ends up sitting on the arm of the chair, on Ray’s other side.

“You wanna tell Grace about the article you wrote to help find her?” Ray asks gently, and Gerard nods. Grace looks up at him quietly, eyes wide and hopeful. If he embellishes the story a little bit, it’s all for her benefit.

Grace is eventually convinced to sleep in her own bed that night. Ray compromises on this by allowing her to borrow one of the pillows from his bed, and she falls asleep in a shirt that smells of him, but all the same she goes to bed. Ray comes back to the sitting room alone, and plops himself onto the couch next to Gerard. He leans his head back, and Gerard shuffles over as much as he can without feeling suspicious. Ray looks over at him.

“Is it so bad that I know Grace is just upstairs, yet I miss her?” Ray asks. Gerard shakes his head.

“Not at all. I’d probably still be upstairs with her if I were in your position.” One side of Ray’s mouth curls up, though his face remains tired and sad. Neither of them says much for the rest of the evening.

Grace wanders further away from Ray the next day as well, though she remains in the house. Around noon, while Ray is digging around in the pantry for something to make for lunch, she pops into the doorway of the sitting room. Gerard doesn’t notice her, so he doesn’t know how long she stands there before he sees her.

“You’re still here,” she says quietly, as she takes a few steps forward. She doesn’t sti down, just stands beside him. Gerard nods.

“I’m still here.” He agrees.

“Why? Don’t you have things to do?” Grace asks. Her head tilts a bit. Some of her curls still aren’t quite back to their normal state, stuck together in a large tangle by her ear. Gerard isn’t sure if it’s that Grace hadn’t bothered trying to comb it more or if the curls were stuck there. 

“I probably could find things to do, but they’re not as important as being here,” Gerard finds himself saying. “I was here quite a lot with your father these past few weeks. Someone needed to take care of him. I think I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that he doesn’t need me anymore.”

Grace moves over to sit beside Gerard, and he lets her, even as she rests a head against his shoulder. His mother’s voice rings out in his head, all the times she tried to make a real gentleman out of him when he was younger, and now he’s sitting here with another man’s daughter acting as if he’s her father. He really should say something.

“He does need you, I think,” Grace says. “He won’t say it, but I’m sure he does.”

“I need him too,” Gerard admits, “just maybe not the way he needs me.”

“Is it because you love him?” Grace asks. Gerard has to fight not to startle. Mikey knew from seeing him after Grant’s party so long ago, and Kristin from the way he talked about Ray. That Grace would see it too really shouldn’t surprise him.

“It is because I love him. I tried to find a way to tell him, before-”  _ before I unintentionally got you kidnapped _ , “but there was never a right way to say it.”

“Maybe you should have started by actually saying it,” Ray’s voice comes from the doorway, and Gerard and Grace both turn. His face is carefully blank, like his voice, and Gerard stiffens. “Can I speak with you alone, Gerard?”

He nods, and stands up slowly. Ray leads him to the other side of the house, hand just behind his shoulder. He’s not touching Gerard, just leading. The space between them feels like a gravity all on its own.

For a moment, neither says anything. To Gerard, the silence feels tense, and he can’t help but curl into himself, just a bit. “I’m sorry, Ray, I didn’t-”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. Ray reaches out, touches his arm gently. Gerard doesn’t look up.

“You didn’t what, Gerard?” He asks softly. Gerard almost can’t stand the gentleness in his voice.

“I’m sorry I got Grace kidnapped. I didn’t mean for the manuscript to cause any trouble, it was the only way I could think to admit how I felt. I didn’t know Kristin had written on it. If it’s all the same to you, we can forget about it completely. I can even go, if you’d prefer?” Gerard hates himself in this moment, the babbling and the sadness in his voice. This really isn’t how he intended to confess his feelings to Ray.

“Don’t go. Stay, please.” Ray brings his hand up to Gerard’s cheek. This time, Gerard does look up. “I most certainly won’t forget about your manuscript, Gerard. I haven’t even had time to properly read it. As for getting Grace kidnapped, that’s no more your fault than it is mine. Any number of documents in my office could have given me away, least of all two sitting on my desk which would have been much easier for Gideon to take hold of and investigate than your manuscript.” 

Gerard whimpers a bit as Ray’s thumb strokes his cheek. His hands come up around Ray’s shoulders, loose in case he needs to let go. “The way I see it, you’ve written me a confession, which I’ve never gotten the change to respond to. I think I should like to do that now.”

Gerard says, “oh,” in a small voice, half-question and half-hopeful. Ray nods.

“Yes. I find you quite dear to me too, Gerard. Can I?” Ray’s other hand has moved up to Gerard’s face, cradling his other cheek. They’re standing quite close together now.

“Please,” Gerard says, and Ray kisses him. It’s quite sweet, maybe the sweetest kiss Gerard’s ever experienced. It leaves him feeling like melting.

“I think I’m quite in love with you, Gerard Way.”

“I think I’m quite in love with you too, Raymond Toro-Ortiz.”

* * *

 

Sometimes, as he’s just waking up, Gerard will forget that Ray is there, a warm presence against his side.

He thinks he should be a bit more used to it, since he moved into Ray’s home and his bedroom almost six weeks ago now, but it’s still a new sensation. Ray will tease him about it sometimes, say that Gerard will still forget even when they’re married. Luckily, he’s still got a bit of time to prove Ray wrong on that prediction.

“Two more weeks weeks until you’re stuck with me for good,” Ray says softly, and Gerard turns over in his arms to give him a kiss.

“I should be saying that to you, I think,” Gerard tells Ray, chuckling as he tightens his grip around Gerard, presses kisses to his cheeks and nose and jaw. “Are you sure you still want that?”

“Like I’ve never wanted anything before.” Then Ray presses his lips to Gerard’s again, and they have better things to do instead of talking for the next few minutes.

As far as proposals go, theirs left a lot to be desired in terms of romance. It happened in New York City, just outside the courthouse. Ray and Grace had been obligated to be there for Gideon’s trial, but Gerard had gone on Ray’s invitation. Of all the charges laid against him, Gideon was found guilty of the lot of them. Unlawful transfer of custody of a minor child, kidnapping, attempting to flee the country, attempting to smuggle a kidnapped child across borders, and attempting to elude officers of the law. Ray took nearly twice as long to struggle through the question as it had taken the foreman to read the verdict on individual charge, but it didn’t even take Gerard a quarter of the time to say yes and sweep him up in a kiss than it took the judge to declare Gideon guilty on all charges.

When they finally break their kisses, Gerard can hear rustling in Grace’s room. She must be getting dressed already. “I think the Missile Kid is getting eager to move,” he points out. He tries not to feel it too much when Ray lets go of him in order to get up.

“We should follow suit then, Party Poison,” Ray says. Gerard pushes himself out of bed.

“Right behind you, Jet Star.”

Grace is waiting by the door, dressed and ready, while Gerard drinks a cup of coffee. Ray is just down the hall, grabbing their gifts.

Barely a day after they finally confessed to each other, Kristin had given birth to a baby girl. She and Mikey named their daughter Rowan Louise, and Grace was taken with the baby from the moment she saw her. Over the course of the past year, Grace has seen her again many times, mostly when Gerard brought her along for a visit. Ray’s been more comfortable about visiting Mikey and Kristin without Gerard since they’ve gotten betrothed, as well. Just the other day, Ray told his mother that Rowan was his niece. Just hearing it had made Gerard’s heart swell.

The party for Rowan isn’t a very big one - Kristin’s parents are there, along with two of her sisters. Mikey and Gerard’s father would have loved to make it, but couldn’t find a plausible lie to tell their mother. (They just count themselves lucky he’ll be at the wedding in two weeks, because their mother’s wrath would be much worse over that.) James and Frank are around too, with Frank wearing a long shirt to cover as many of his tattoos as he can. He’s entertaining Kristin’s niece and nephew when Gerard, Ray, and Grace arrive.

Grace runs off almost as soon as she catches sight of Rowan, gift in hand. Grace had chosen the gift herself, three of her nicest dresses from when she was a toddler. Gerard had assured her that Kristin would adore them. Grace had also written Rowan a sweet little poem, which she’d added to the gift just at the last minute.

Ray sets the gift from himself and Gerard, a decorative bottle full of beautifully dyed sand in pinks, purples, reds, and blues, onto a table with other gifts. When he returns to Gerard’s side, Mikey has appeared.

“The party looks good so far,” Ray tells him. Mikey chuckles.

“It hasn’t even started yet. Just wait. Soon enough, you’ll change your mind about becoming a Way once and for all. Gerard will have to rewrite  _ Save Yourself, I’ll Hold Them Back _ once again to take Jet Star and the Missile Kid back out of it.”

Ray takes Gerard’s hand and laces their fingers together before Gerard can do something rash, like hit Mikey.

“No,” he says, “I don’t think I’ll ever change my mind about marrying Gerard.”

**Author's Note:**

> In case you're confused about the random X's in certain sections of the fic, those are typewriter corrections. They don't really have a backspace option, so usually people will just put X's over the text they want to cross out. Fun fact.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Mix for "Bury Me In Memory" by Acadjonne](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16852744) by [Sodapopandritalin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sodapopandritalin/pseuds/Sodapopandritalin)




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